


The Blurred Line Between Madness and Sanity

by ImmediatelyWriting



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: ADHD, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, Ash Lynx Feels, Ash Lynx Has Issues, Ash Lynx Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Griffin Callenreese Lives, Hurt Griffin Callenreese, Hurt Shorter Wong, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Kissing, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Multi, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Romance, Schizophrenia, Shorter Wong Feels, Shorter Wong Has Issues, Shorter Wong Needs a Hug, Sing Soo-Ling Has Issues, Social Anxiety, Yut-Lung Lee Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 36,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmediatelyWriting/pseuds/ImmediatelyWriting
Summary: There's no such thing as Banana Fish, no mafia or criminal activities; just a group of kids who've lost it a long time ago."The voices aren’t real, or so everybody says. But if they weren’t real that would mean I’m insane and I clearly am not.""He doesn’t look intimidating or aggressive at all, he even looks extremely vulnerable to me.""I couldn’t call him crazy; he’s my little brother after all."
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, Charlie Dickenson/Nadia Wong, Max Lobo/Jessica Randy
Comments: 80
Kudos: 121





	1. Are You Sure That You Don't Mess Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hey There,
> 
> Literally one day ago, I finished Banana Fish, and I just couldn't help myself... I had to write a fanfiction with these amazing characters!  
> Within no time something with a Medical Institution in an Alternative Universe where there isn't any Banana Fish, one where nobody is being shot or drugged and most importantly one where the entire universe we know from the anime is ALL in Ash's head, came to mind.  
> After playing around with the different characters and how I could give all of them a role in the story, I started writing.  
> And here I am now, posting it because I'm curious to see what you think of it!
> 
> Let me just give some disclaimers before we start:  
> \- This isn't smut and it contains NO 18+ kinda scenes.  
> \- Obviously this will have some spoilers for Banana Fish, so watch that first.  
> \- I'm no psychologist, nor do I have any mental health problems beside some mild social anxiety, therefor I don't know if any of these mental disorders are written accurate, but I did my research as well as I could.  
> \- If you are badly affected by any of the trigger warnings that I'll put in the Authorsnote at every chapter, please skip that certain chapter.  
> \- My native language isn't English and I'm dyslectic, even though I've been writing for a long time, there will still be some typos and mistakes in the grammar.
> 
> Having that said, ENJOY!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Eiji Okumura**

Clouds rush by as we’re slowly getting closer to the ground. I’m basically stuck to the little window as I see the skyscrapers of New York below me.

Never had I been in a plane before and this has been a long flight. Even though I’ve been on edge and slightly panicked all these thirteen hours, it’s definitely worth it.

Not only will I be able to see what makes New York “the city that never sleeps”, but I’m now officially studying somewhere far away from the depression atmosphere of Japan. My parents might’ve not been glad with me leaving the country for an internship, but I was more than happy when my mentor, mister Ibe, told me that he had been able to get me an internship at a small facility in the United States.

This was a surprise really, because other students that are just nineteen years old aren’t allowed to do their internships so far away from Japan. Mister Ibe knew how I was having a hard time after switching majors and dealing with my situation at home.

I got lucky, since I’m pretty good at most of the subjects I’ll need during my internship and I’m reasonable enough to not get into trouble when being far away from home.

I didn’t think twice before contacting the psychiatric hospital that mister Ibe suggested for me. Of course, getting me to America took some time and there was a lot that had to be taken care of before I could start my internship, but the special and tiny mental facility in New York accepted my request without a doubt.

Now, two month later, I’m landing in New York.

Only a short drive in my supervisor’s car before I can start my internship for real.

As I walk through the crowded halls of an airport searching for someone that’s here to pick me up. I’ve been told my supervisor, who’ll be awaiting me, is a broad guy with light brown hair and he’ll be banner with my name on it, for some reason.

When I finally reach the gates where all sorts of people are waiting for their friends, family or workers, I realize why my supervisor thought he needed a banner so I’d recognize him. Never in my life have I seen so many white guys with light brown hair and a strong build.

Fortunately there aren’t many Japanese adolescents with massive amount of luggage here and someone quickly calls my name. The man that calls out to me fits the description mister Ibe gave me; he’s taller than I expected, but he is holding up a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it in black marker.

“Yes!” I whisper to myself as I push through the crowd and towards my supervisor.

The man is even taller and broader when I’m standing in front of him, which makes it clear that you need to be somewhat strong to work in a psychiatric hospital. This is the first time that I realized how big of a disadvantage my height and slender body are.

“Eiji Okumura, right?” the man asks, completely screwing up when saying my name.

I nod and say, “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

The old guy chuckles and tells me to drop the formalities and just call him Max from now on. I don’t object, because I know the standards of being polite versus impolite are totally different in the United State.

“Well, anyway,” Max says while starting to walk towards the exit. “We’re not too far from the shelter, so you can get your luggage to your bedroom as soon as we get there. After getting everything to your room, you can help out with the morning routine if you want.”

“I’d love that,” I reply with a smile.

We get into the car and while we drive Max explains a little about what kind of people I might run into. He tells me about some of the patients they have and what kind of facility they are. I already knew they were different from a normal psychiatric hospital and more like a shelter for homeless kids with some sort of mental disorder or disability. Yet, when Max explains more I start to realize that they’re a much smaller organization than I thought at first; with only a few patients and barely enough income to pay all workers it becomes clear why they were so delighted to take in a trainee.

“Other than that you should make sure to always inform one of us about where you are, in case something were to happen,” Max explains while taking a turn to the left. “most of our clients aren’t aggressive at all, but there’s always a possibility they lose their temper when you’re with them therefore we should always know where to find you.”

I nod over and over again while making notes in my mind; I have to make sure I don’t forget any of the important rules, because otherwise this could go wrong just like my previous study completely flopped. I can’t have myself getting hurt again.

All of a sudden, Max stops the car and releases a sigh.

Sweat breaks out from every pore on my entire body when thoughts like _“have I done something wrong?”_ and _“am I going to be sent back to Japan?”_ race through my mind.

Max must’ve seen my stressed out expression, because his voice is soothing when he quickly tells me that we’ve basically arrived at the facility. “I’m dropping your off here, because I need to park my car around the back,” he explains. “A colleague of mine will let you inside, she’ll give you some more instructions about the tasks you’ll have to do while I get your luggage to your temporary bedroom.”

“Oh,” I say under my breath. “Alright. No problem.”

I slide my backpack off my lap and thank Max for picking me up at the airport before stepping out of the car and onto the crowded sidewalks of New York. I close the car-door almost right away, because of the amount of people that’s trying to push past me, but I quickly realize that I have no clue which of these houses is the right house; there’s not a single house in this normal neighborhood that screams _Mental Facility_.

Awkwardly I tap on the window in hope Max won’t drive away.

“Oh, Max!” I ask after Max rolls down the window. “Which house is your facility?”

Max chuckles and answers me by telling me the number of the house, before he drives away, leaving me on the sidewalk with sweaty hands and a pounding heart.

 _No problem,_ I tell myself as I walk past the houses, searching for the right house number.

When I’ve finally found it, a brick, three-storey-high building, I take one deep breath before pressing on the doorbell so they can let me inside. There’s a buzz, followed by a click and the door opening with a cracking noise that sounds like it could be used as a sound effect in a horror movie.

In the doorway, stands a young-looking lady.

“Eiji Okumura?” she asks in a deep feminine voice. “Am I right?”

“Y-Yes,” I stammer, shocked by how short and slender the lady is in comparison to Max. She’s even short when you compare her to me. Maybe you don’t have to be tall and strong for this kind of job after all.

“Good,” she says, the serious expression on her face barely changes. “I’m Nadia Wong, I take Max told you that I’d let you in?”

I nod and smile at her, unsure about whether I should still introduce myself when she already knows almost everything there is to know about me. Fortunately she doesn’t leave me any time to awkwardly introduce myself, instead she immediately tells me to come inside. Her tone isn’t especially inviting me, but her hand-gestures welcome me.

On the inside the facility looks less like a psychiatric hospital and more like a slightly more medical version of a normal house.

Other than Nadia and me there isn’t anyone in the entrance hall. Not that there would fit any more people in this narrow hallway that stretches out into a staircase.

“You can leave your jacket here,” Nadia says while gesturing at a coat rack. “There’s no real dress code, but it’s always a little inconvenient to work while wearing a coat so t-shirts, hoodies or loose vests are more appreciated than tight clothes and layers of coats.”

I do as she tells me and take off my coat, glad I’m wearing a hoodie underneath. After hanging it from the rack, I follow Nadia to the first floor.

On the top of the stairs there’s a door and I hear talking from behind it. When the door opens a normal-looking living room appears; if I didn’t know this was some kind of facility, I would believe anyone that told me this was just a normal family house.

There are three soft-looking couches placed around a low and wooden table. Other than that there’s just a television hanging from the wall and

There are some older men seated on the benches, every one of them enjoying a hot cup of coffee. All of them look up when they see me standing in the doorway.

“Uh, h-hi,” I stammer as I quickly bow. “My name is Eiji Okumura, I’m your new trainee.”

A hand rests on my shoulder at the same time that Nadia’s voice tells me to drop the formalities. “We’re just a bunch of normal people,” she tells me.

“Yeah, there’s no need to get all formal with us,” one of the men, a tall guy with semi long, dark brown hair, adds. When the other men chuckle, I feel so dumb for thinking that I needed to be just as formal here as I have always been in Japan.

“Come on,” a voice sounds from another room. “Take it easy on the kid.”

All eyes turn to the door that probably leads to the kitchen since a guy wearing an apron walks out of the room. The guy is clearly somewhat younger than most of the men, he’s probably in his late twenties and he limps a little when he shuffles into the living room.

“I’m sorry about them,” he says while smiling politely. “They’re used to be screamed at by people your age and younger, but you may be as formal as you’re comfortable with.”

“Aww Griff, don’t be so serious all the time,” Max’s voice sounds from downstairs. “The kid knows that we’re just saying that to tease him a little. Don’t you, Eiji?”

I turn around to see Max winking at me and I immediately catch myself nodding even if that actually means I’m lying; I really thought they thought of me as being way too formal.

The guy in the apron – Griff? – shakes his head while chuckling.

There’s no kind of formality in this room indeed, that very clear; these guys have probably known each other for a long, long time already.

“Anyway,” Max continues while pushing past me. “Why are all of you still chitter-chattering in the living room? It’s ten AM already, you should’ve woken everybody by now.”

“Shit,” Nadia mumbles while checking her watch. “You’re right, they should’ve been eating breakfast instead of sleeping in like this.”

Like some unknown force is lifting them, all the men on the couch get up at once. They bring their mugs to the kitchen before all walking in different directions.

Griff, or whatever his name might be, limps back into the kitchen on the foot followed by Max. One of the other men gathers his dark brown hair in a ponytail before heading upstairs. And a slender redhead walks towards Nadia and gives her a kiss on the forehead before going downstairs and leaving the house. Lastly Nadia goes upstairs as well.

I’m left alone, like they completely forgot that I have no clue what to do. Fortunately this isn’t the case, because Max soon walks out of the kitchen again.

“Eiji, you can come with me,” he says while wandering to the stairs that lead to the second floor. “We need to wake Ash up and get him dressed up and showered for breakfast.”

I nod and follow Max up the stairs. It’s a narrow staircase, so I’m lucky I’m so slender; Max has no trouble getting up the stairs for the most part, but when we need to push past a stair lift it is harder for him than it is for me.

I gaze around the second floor like a kid in a candy story, but soon find out there isn’t much to see. There’s just a long and rather wide hallway and there are at least seven doors that probably lead to bedrooms or bathrooms. When we walk past a few of the rooms, I soon notice there are wooden name-tags hammered on most of them.

On the first two doors there’s just a sign saying _“Bathroom”_ but when we get more to the back of the hallway there’s a door with the name _“Shorter Wong”_ written on it in swirly handwriting. Facing that room there’s the bedroom that belongs to some Yut-Lung Lee.

On the end of the hallway there’s the bedroom of Sing Soo-Ling and Aslan Callenreese.

“Here we are,” Max says, holding the doorknob of Aslan’s door in his hand. “I do have to warn you, Ash can be a little grumpy when waking up.”

I swallow; not quite knowing how groggily he will be and if that means he’s just like any other teen would be when being woken or if he’s extremely aggressive.

Without saying any more, Max opens the door and cheerfully storms inside.

“Ash, time to wake up!” he says.

I feel like running, because how can he be this calm when he just warned me about Ash’s, or Aslan’s, terrible morning mood? But instead of fleeing, I stand in the doorway like I’m nailed to the ground from the second that I see the patient named Ash.

In the smallest ray of sunlight there’s lying a teenage guy with the blondest hair I’ve ever seen. He’s paler than snow on a winter’s day and that in combination with his scrawny build and the way he drools in his sleep; he’s adorable.

Even when he opens his striking green eyes and frowns, he doesn’t look intimidating or aggressive at all, he even looks extremely vulnerable to me.


	2. His Mind Is In A Different Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast is a normal thing here...   
> but the way Ash is acting today is even more off than usually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> So, yeah, I don't have a lot to say haha.   
> I hope you'll enjoy this chaper!
> 
> Trigger Warnings:  
> \- Mentions of & behaviour that has to do with mental health issues (the ones named in the previous End-note)
> 
> Having said that, have fun reading!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Griffin Callenreese**

The table is set, but no one has shown up downstairs yet.

I can hear Ash yelling at Max again, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one that can ever wake him up without him having an awful temper right away. I wish I could be the one to wake Ash up, but my leg is acting up again and I can’t use the stairlift during these hours.

Shorter’s loud voice isn’t much better and I’m almost certain Nadia is trying to force him to take a shower because he doesn’t even need gel to keep his Mohawk upright; that’s how greasy it has been lately. He’s not happy with his big sis forcing him to step under the drippy rain-like water and we all know why.

A knock on the door wakes me from my thoughts. My gaze moves to the door, and down, where our youngest housemate stands. Skip isn’t one of our “patients”, but when we found the poor kid living on the street, we kind of took him in.

“Huh?” he mumbles as he wanders into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. “Why isn’t anyone downstairs yet? I thought you’d be eating breakfast already.”

I shrug and lean against the wall. “Remember the trainee I told you about?”

Skip nods while taking a seat at the table, patiently waiting for the rest instead of starting to eat right away like he did when we just took him in.

“He arrived this morning,” I explain while taking my crutches from behind the fridge and limping to my personal spot at the breakfast table. “I guess we just all lost track of time while waiting for Max to return with him. Or something like that.”

Right when I flop down onto my chair, I hear the talking of people getting closer.

Before I know it Blanca walks into the kitchen, on the foot followed by Yut-Lung and Sing.

“Good morning!” I greet them with a smile, but all I get are two annoyed glares in response.

They take their seats in silence at the same time that the sound of Shorter stomping down the stairs echoes through the entire house.

“I told you to dry your hair, remember?” Nadia’s voice sounds, but Shorter has already reached the kitchen. As expected, his purple hair is dripping all over the place and he doesn’t look pleased when he sees how many people are already sitting in the kitchen.

His brown eyes get bigger when they meet mine.

“Uh,” he mumbles, shifting from one leg onto the other. His gaze turns to the ground and I can physically see him thinking about snatching a bun and some boiled eggs so he can withdraw to his bedroom again.

“Don’t even think about it!” Nadia says in a stern tone, appearing behind Shorter. “You’re just going to take a seat and eat with us, Shorter.”

He’s been making so much progress when being one on one with people, but being around huge groups of people still tends to get him worked up and all stressed out. It’s up to all of us to make sure he at least gets over his social anxiety; that means he also has to eat with all of us at least once a day. This has been going alright, but knowing that someone new has joined us today must make him a little more stressed than usually.

Shorter grunts softly before silently taking a seat in between Sing and Nadia.

Now there are just three empty seats left; one for Max, one for Eiji and of course one for Ash if he decides to listen to Max for once and not refuse to follow up orders so badly that he has to be forced in a wheelchair again.

He is taking longer than usually, so who knows what’s going on upstairs.

My attention gets drawn to a hand hovering over the table; of course it belongs to Sing. He’s not at all patient enough to wait when all of this tasty food is standing right in front of his nose. So it’s no surprise that he’s already on the edge of his seat searching for the most delicious baked good before everyone else has joined us.

Nadia shoots Sing a stern glance.

At first I’m convinced Sing is going to listen, but he immediately starts to shift and fiddle impatiently as soon as his back hits the back of the chair.

“Can’t we start already?” he whines, but he immediately shuts his mouth when Yut-Lung pokes him in the side and stares at the food with disgust in his eyes.

I look at Nadia and Blanca, to see what they think about starting breakfast without Ash, Max and Eiji, and I soon notice they seem to agree with me.

“You may eat,” I tell them, because we’re already one hour behind on our usual schedule.

While most of them immediately reach for the baked goods and salads, I immediately notice Yut-Lung is just glaring at the food like it’ll kill him if he’d just touch it.

Blanca seems to notice too and decides to tell Yut-Lung he has to eat.

It’s been so hard to get the skinny kid to eat his breakfast, lunch and dinner, we’re happy if he even eats one of them without being forced. We don’t even know for sure if he doesn’t want to eat because it’ll ruin his slender body, maybe the taste isn’t the same when he hasn’t downed a bottle of strong alcohol, or if it is because he has been living on the streets for so long he doesn’t even experience the feeling of hunger anymore.

But if he keeps refusing to eat he’s sure to end up having to be forced-fed again through an IV or food-tube. None of us want that, because last time it ended with him laying on the ICU at a hospital which didn’t only cost massive amounts of money that we just don’t have, it also wasn’t good for his mental health being in such depressive surroundings.

Yut-Lung shakes his head when Blanca presents him a healthy salad, but after a couple of minutes he does start chewing on one of the lettuce leafs without any creamy dressing.

I reach out for the basket with buns at the same time that Max, Eiji and Ash finally enter the kitchen. Ash isn’t smiling, neither are Max and Eiji, which probably means Ash did something to piss at least Max off.

“Did something happen?” I ask when the three of them start to take their seats.

Ash eyes meet mine and his expression goes from annoyed to gloomy, and instead of answering me he just grunts and folds his feet underneath him before sitting down.

“Max?” I ask, turning to my good friend who’ve been taking care of Ash when I can’t due to my leg and back problems. “What happened?”

Max’s expression is apologetic, rather than angry, when he says, “The usual; I told him that there aren’t any people with gun searching for us and he freaked.”

“Well, just you wait!” Ash fires back at Max. “They’re out there, searching for us.”

Shorter’s eyebrows perk up while he asks, “Who? Ash, who are looking for us?”

“Yeah, who?” Sing is curious enough that he hasn’t even swallowed before talking.

“Golzine’s men,” Ash says. “They’re armed for sure, but Max won’t give me back my gun.”

Yut-Lung rolls his eyes, mumbling that Ash should shut his mouth, and Sing most certainly is getting ready to joke about this. While the tension in the room rises, Shorter starts breathing heavily; if Ash keeps this up, at least one of them is going to have a panic attack someday soon. His rambling is getting worse and worse with every day that passes.

“Aslan,” I say, as loud as I possibly can. “Hallway, now!”

Ash’s mouth gapes a little while he stares at me in disbelief, almost as if he’s seen a ghost.

Just when I think he’s about to listen, he scoffs and says, “I don’t have to obey the dead.”

I gasp. Tears sting in my eyes when I realize he’s probably serious about believing that I’m some sort of ghost or living dead; he must’ve had another one of his nightmares again or he’s listening to the voices in his head rather than trying to ignoring them.

“I-I.” My lips are shaking and all my words get caught in my throat. “Aslan.”

“Ash, how could you say that?” Max yells at Ash. “He’s your older brother.”

Ash gets up from his chair and glares at Max. “Yeah? He’s dead, okay!”

“He’s sitting right there.”

“No, it’s just another hallucination,” Ash mumbles, folding his hands over his ears like he does whenever the voices are yelling at him again. “The dead don’t talk.”

Max hand lands on the table, scaring all of us. “Go to your room, now!”

Ash doesn’t hesitate before storming out of the kitchen in anger, or is it more like fear. A door upstairs shuts with a loud bang and with that all eyes turn to me.

I rub in my eyes and sigh; it’s been a long time since last time Ash believed in his delusions and hallucinations this hard. Not only does it suck that he did this during breakfast and on our poor trainee’s first day, he also won’t listen to me anymore if he truly believes I’m dead.

“Just.” My voice sounds tired, even though I try not to show how painful those words are to me, especially since I’m already the reason why Ash is the way he is. “Just give him some time alone. He probably had a rough night, that’s all.”

I get up from the table, because I can’t handle everyone staring at me now.

With help of my crutches I get away before anyone can ask me what I’m doing or where I’m going; I don’t want any questions now. I sit down just outside of the kitchen, on the lowest step of the stairs. I bury my face in my sweaty hands.

Ash used to be a good kid, or at least he used to listen to me before. But since a couple of years it’s all gone southward and Ash is starting to be more rebellious and less aware of what’s going on in the real world we’re living in.

Most of the time, I don’t think he knows that he’s in a home meant for teens like him, with mental disorders and has no other place to go. He doesn’t realize he’s safe here, and I started up this organization for his safety and to make sure he wouldn’t end up in a real asylum.

But with how bad he’s been doing lately, how wild his nightmares and delusions are getting, I don’t know how long I can keep him out of the real psychiatric hospitals.

In his mind he’s in a totally different place and the lines between reality and hallucinations have completely blurred by now. He’s convinced that he’s a gang leader and people with guns and a lot of power are searching for all of us, because he’s discovered about some kind of drug that makes people trip. Or that’s what I can understand from his rambling.

Every time we tell him that there’s no reason for him to want to carry a gun, or to want to safe us or escape from this house, he either gets aggressive or he just withdraws in his room.

A sigh escapes from my mouth and I rub my face in both annoyance and sadness.

“Are you alright, Griffin?” Max’s voice shakes me from my thoughts.

I watch him take a seat on the stairs beside me. His expression is apologetic, but I don’t need him to tell me he’s sorry when we both know that Ash can’t be controlled.

“I don’t know what to do with him anymore,” I whisper, my voice breaks. “He’s become like a wild animal and I know I can’t keep him in this cage much longer if he keeps getting worse and worse at this pace.”

Max takes a deep breath before telling me I’m right. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you don’t want him to be a danger for himself and others…you have to consider—“

“I can’t, Max.” I shake my head.

“I know, but Griff.” Max always stays this calm when talking to me, I wonder how he does it. “Look, your little brother is going to get himself hurt this way.”

I press my lips against each other and clench my hands, because I know that he’s right. Because I don’t want to give into sending Ash to a psychiatric hospital.

“Strapping him to a bed and locking him up in a hospital won’t make him better, alright,” I tell Max. “It’ll only make him more aggressive, more…”

“Crazy?”

I nod; he said the word I haven’t ever been able to say about my little brother. Not even when he got into daily fights with our father, or he punched a police agent. Even when I was in the hospital and Ash got himself arrested for wandering the streets naked, carrying a gun... even then I couldn’t get myself to call him crazy; he’s my little brother after all.

But lately I’ve been thinking it more often than not. What if something inside of him just really has snapped over the past couple of years? What if he is only going to get worse because I physically can’t get myself to fill out a form for him and get him into a psychiatric hospital that doesn’t exist of a couple of amateurs with no income at all?

I lay my head in my hands again and bite the inside of my cheek so I won’t cry.

The _what-if_ questions keep haunting my mind, and they probably won’t stop until we find something to fix his brain. But then again, what if I’m already too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> Me again!  
> Comment to let me know what you think are the mental health issues that the characters in this story are dealing with now you've seen them in the story!  
> I'm curious to see what you think, and Idk... how badly I probably protrayed them hahaha.  
> I want to read what I can improve to how to portray them now that I'm still writing, get what I mean, so leave me some points that you'd say I'm doing so wrong it's annoying but maybe also let me know some stuff that is actually decent!
> 
> Love, Noa <3
> 
> ________
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Ash knows he did something wrong... but he isn't crazy, is he?


	3. Got a Fucked Up Brain, Fucked Up Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the voices in Ash's head tell him that Griffin's really gone...   
> but if Ash is seeing a ghost, that would mean he's completely bonkers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> I hope you all had a happy and spooky halloween yesterday!  
> I'm sorry I didn't post anything special for halloween, but I was too busy working on the plot of this fanfiction. 
> 
> Love, Noa <3
> 
> Trigger Warnings;  
> \- Spoken about death  
> \- Voices in head/hallucinations  
> \- Cursing (as you can see in the chapter title)  
> \- Mild hurting of own body (not self harm perse)  
> \- Mention of blood
> 
> Having said that, have fun reading!

**Aslan Callenreese**

I could punch myself now.

Or them, I could punch all of them just as hard as I could punch myself.

Instead, I punch my pillow; I can’t let my emotions take over, that way I’ll make mistakes and it could even be the death of all of them if I make mistakes.

_“You’re great at fucking up, aren’t you?”_ That’s the voice talking.

I punch the pillow again. “Shut up.”

_“It’s happened before, I mean, look at Griffin_ ,” it’s that same voice again, the one that keeps bugging me most of the time.

The voices aren’t real, or so everybody says. But if they weren’t real that would mean I’m insane and I clearly am not. Actually I seem to be the only one in a right mind here.

“ _If you just had paid more attention, he wouldn’t have died; he would still be here._ ”

See? Even the voices are sure that Griffin wasn’t there just now. That would mean I’m seeing ghosts, which is kind of crazy, but talking back at them like everybody else was doing just now would be even more insane than seeing them.

“Nope, nope. Wrong!” I fold my hands over my ears and press my face into my pillow. “The voices aren’t real, so that would mean Griffin is still alive.”

My eyes get bigger in disbelief, because that can’t be true. Everyone says he’s dead; they’ve literally seen him get shot, they’ve called his death time and he should’ve been chunked in some public grave by now because the chance of picking up his body has been stolen from me. I’ve been robbed of doing at least that much for my brother.

We were on the run all night, yet when I woke up I was back in this house again. I always wake up in this house. Usually with the same people, but there was someone else standing beside my bed this morning.

He’s short and scrawny, he has a terrible accent and I somehow recognize him from somewhere. When his brown eyes met mine it was like I’d known him for years.

_“You don’t know him,”_ a voice tells me as soon as the thought comes to mind.

Maybe it’s right, because I shouldn’t be able to recognize the Japanese kid; I always wake up in this room. In this bed. Sometimes I wonder if I ever even leave this house even when it really seems like I do every single day.

I shake my head. Not because I don’t agree with my thoughts, but because I want them to get clearer; I have no clue why I feel this way.

My mind is all scattered, my thoughts all over the place.

Even the voices agree with me on that; _“You’re a freak!”_ they keep saying it day in, day out.

“I am,” I always reply to the voices, because I’m normal once they stop. I’ll feel more normal once I’ve started to see that I’m not crazy.

That makes no sense, I know that, but to me it makes a lot of sense; right now there’s no right or wrong, no true or false and no real of fantasy in my head. They’ve explained that many times, giving me pills so ease the pain. I don’t feel not-normal because of any of those things, because everyone else here takes medication too and everyone has nightmares at night or things they’re scared of that keep coming back to them.

It’s the fact that everyone, including my voices, acts like I’m crazier than anybody else. Like I’m lying about Banana Fish, or the men that are trying to hunt us down, or me needing to protect them with my life because I’m a murderer already anyway… or Griffin being a corpse instead of someone that can eat breakfast with us at the table.

All of that is true too.

_“Or isn’t it?”_ a voice in my head asks. _“That’s the real question here.”_

I bite the inside of my cheek, because that is a good question. Are these moments that I spend outside during the night hours real? Or are they all a stupid nightmare.

Tears well up in my eyes when I realize that I don’t know the answer.

My hand hits the wall and pain shoots from my knuckles to my shoulder.

The voices are laughing at me.

I hit the wall again, because I should know what’s real and what’s not.

They’re laughing even louder, happy to see the blood drip from my hands.

There’s too much noise in my head making my ears feel like bleeding and my brain like exploding. It’s too loud and I’m shaking when my hand stops flying at the wall.

“Huh?” I mumble under my breath, wondering what force is strong enough to make my hand stop midair like that. I try to yank my hand away from the unknown force, but it won’t even move an inch.

“Did the wall do anything to piss you off?” a voice asks me in a joking tone, but it’s not one of the many that house in my head. “Because I don’t think it has.”

I turn around and jerk my hand away from Blanca’s grip. While pushing my back against the wall, I glare at the old man confused about why he’s here.

“Fuck off.” I scoff and turn my head away from him.

Blanca never listens to me, probably because he’s much older than me and he’s aware that for some unknown reason I really look up to him. Instead of leaving my room, he sits down on my bed and gently rests his hand on my upper leg.

I want to pull away from his touch, because I don’t like the feel of people’s hands all over me; it always brings back memories, which might or might not be mine. If I’d listen to what Griffin has told me every time I explained him about the nightmares and flashes of scenes that play before my eyes whenever somebody touches me, those memories are only my imagination.

But then again, Griffin got himself dead, so why would I still think of what he told me?

“What are you even doing here?” I mumble, because Blanca has no business barging into my bedroom like this. I still don’t get why none of these rooms can be locked from the inside, only the people that are outside and have the key can lock me up whenever they want.

“Well, you made all of us worry.” He takes a deep breath and rubs in his eyes with his huge hands. “We could hear your fists hitting the wall, even though we’re downstairs.”

I shrug, it’s not like I care about what they do and don’t hear.

“I was wondering,” Blanca continues. “Aren’t you hungry? You barely have eaten anything.”

Again, I shrug, because who cares if I starve? Everyone I love is going to die soon anyway.

There’s a knock on the door, dragging me away from my thoughts. My eyes shoot at the wooden piece of wood that separates my room from the rest of the world and watch it open slowly but surely.

The Japanese guy stands in the doorway with a hesitant expression on his face. In his hand, there’s a bottle with pills which makes me wonder if he’s not just one of us weirdoes after all.

“I got the medication you asked me to get,” he says in terrible English. “Uhm, for Ash.”

_“They all think you’re a freak,”_ a voice echoes through my head the second that the Japanese guy’s words enter my ears, causing my heartbeat to suddenly fly through the roof.

“Yeah,” Blanca says to the Japanese guy. “Thank you, Eiji.”

_“They think you can’t be normal without medication.”_

“Shut up,” I shoot back at the voice. My voice is louder than I wanted it to be, so all eyes are suddenly pointed at me. Especially Eiji’s eyes, which are huge and his mouth is gaping.

“What are you glaring at?” I grumble before pulling my knees against my chest and burying my face in between them in embarrassment.

After a long silence, I can hear footsteps sounding across my room. Instead of getting further away from me, they get closer and closer until they stop right beside me.

I lift my head to see what’s going on.

Immediately, my eyes stare into two huge brown ones. They’re still opened too wide for someone who’s completely comfortable, but for some reason Eiji expresses such calm vibe.

The skin around his eyes is wrinkling just slightly and his lips form a small smile when he presents the bottle of pills to me.

In a sudden calmth, like a blanket draping over me, I reach out for the bottle of pills.

_“See his grin.”_ The echo in my head startles me. _“He’s clearly trying to poison you, dumbass!”_

Usually I would feel like listening to the voice and hit the little see-through bottle out of his hands. But I couldn’t ever do that to Eiji, when he presents it to me with a genuine smile instead of a lot of force; in this light I would almost say he’s like an angel.

So, as if brainwashed, I ignore the voices and take the bottle from him. And, much to Blanca’s surprise, I screw the lid off it and tilt the bottle just enough that one of the small miracle meds drops in the palm of my hand.

_“Don’t take it!”_

I bring my hand to my mouth and completely ignore any of the orders the fake voices in my head try to give me. I reach for the cup of water that’s on my bedside table and swallow the pill without a doubt before looking up at Eiji again.

His smile is too big for his small face, but for some unknown reason it looks like he’s enjoying having such huge grin stuck on his face. His eyes are closed and, seemingly in slow-motion, his smile grows even larger than it already was.

I avert my gaze and scoff, almost as if not being hypnotized by Eiji’s calm era.

“Anyway,” I mumble, searching for something to talk about so this awkward silence will go away. When I hear laughing downstairs, I realize that everyone’s probably doing games or watching television downstairs.

I get up from my bed and saunter towards the door. While I pass through the doorway, I wave by putting my hand in the air and say, “I’m going downstairs if you don’t mind.”

I act like I wasn’t somewhat impressed by how different Eiji is from everyone else here, but when I’m out of their sight, I take my hands to my face. I softly tap my forehead with the palm of my hand and take a deep breath; it’s not shakily, not gasping like usually.

Instead there’s a calm feel sticking to me like glue. I’d like to tell myself that it’s just the pills, causing me to feel so different, but never have they made me calm down this quickly.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m well aware of what’s causing my heart to skip beats every once in a while; it’s Eiji. But it’s not knowing _why_ he makes me feel this strange, what sends shivers down my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Shorter is too wrapped up in his self-doubt and can't even play a game with his housemates.


	4. Too Wrapped Up In Your Self-Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter is way too wrapped up in his self-doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, 
> 
> I didn't have a great day today (messed up on 2/3 tests I had today) so I'm pooped. I'm going to keep this short. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings:  
> \- Spoken/Descriptions of Social Anxiety and extreme self-doubt
> 
> Have run reading!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Shorter Wong**

They're all so loud, playing their games like they're not at all worried about what they say or do. Must be easy to live that way.

Yet, with every tap of the dice hitting the surface of the table, and every little laughter that sounds from Sing's mouth, my heart starts racing even more. Whenever I have to place my pawn further onto the board, my hands get sweatier.

It’s not that I’m afraid of playing games, not at all. Honestly, I love playing all games from Monopoly to a Game of Hearts. I love doing these games that require more than one person, because I know it’ll help me with thinking bad about socializing.

"Hey, Shorter!" Sing's voice echoes through my head and startles me. "It's your turn."

I look up and suddenly I feel all lightheaded. It's also not that I don't like being around Sing and Yut-Lung, but the way they’re really extravert freaks me out.

Sing is way too enthusiastic about everything, never does he have to think before saying something. It freaks me out, because I have to clue how his brain works and how he's able to talk before even thinking. And then there's Yut-Lung, not a blabber mouth by default, but he always has one of two cynical or mean comments up his sleeve. Whenever he says something it's either some smooth but complicated sentence, or it's a comment that's meant to make you feel embarrassed about even being in the same room as him.

"Huh?" I whisper, as a reply to Sing's voice. "I-is it my turn already?"

Sing nods frantically while starting to explain how he just got in jail and now has to skip a turn and therefore is my turn.

But halfway his pointless story, I get distracted by footsteps on the staircase.

My heartbeat rises, because if everyone that's upstairs is coming down to the living room, which means it's going to be filled to the brim with people. All people that all make noises and all can ask questions and all expect answers and all can think that you're crazy. My mind is racing, like a whirlwind in my head and all of a sudden I feel like puking.

"Is the space cadet at it again?" Ash's voice sounds from around the corner.

My breathing gets slower and less stressed, because Ash is one of the only people I feel somewhat comfortable around. Maybe it's because he and I were here with the two of us, and of course Griffin and Nadia, for almost an entire year before they took in Sing and Yut-Lung and Max, Blanca, Jessica, Charlie and now also Eiji started basically living with us.

"I was not," I whisper, averting my eyes to the floor in hope that nobody will see me blush.

Ash chuckles; something I didn't think I'd see him do today. He acted all serious and aggressive this morning, but apparently the pills Eiji was fetching for him made him feel better and now there's a grin on his face. I hope Eiji didn't give him the wrong pills, because Ash's medication looks a lot like the painkillers that make you feel kind of high; I know this because Yut-Lung asked me to fetch him a bottle of those painkillers one time, but to Yut-Lung's disappointment, I came back with Ash's prescription pills that surely didn't give the effect Yut-Lung was hoping for. He still jokes about it to this, making me feel very embarrassed about making such careless mistake.

But maybe Ash is actually feeling better now. Maybe getting the pills from Eiji instead of from Griffin or Max does actually help.

Because when Sing jumps up from his chair and immediately asks Ash to play the game with us too, Ash says "sure" for once. This on itself is weird, and a little nerve-wrecking because it means we'll be with even more people that watch me as I throw the dice. But it gets even worse when Eiji appears behind Ash and also gets asked to join us. Of course, being a cheerful young-adult, Eiji says "yes" without a doubt and takes a seat beside me.

Sweat starts to pour out of all my pores; I can physically feel my shirt getting wetter as we speak. Nobody seems to notice though.

_But what if they do notice._

The thought it like a bullet racing through my heart and for a moment I feel like fainting. Because what if they notice how much I’m sweating? What if they see the darker patches underneath my armpits? What if they blame themselves, or even worse start to laugh at me?

With the questions entering my brain like missals, I lose all concentration.

It’s like the room around me is getting smaller and the air I can inhale gets less with every person that sits down at the table. It’s still my turn to throw the dice, I know this much, but I can’t even find the dice because my vision is so blurred.

My eyes shoot all over the table, searching for the dice. Eiji seems to notice, because he grabs something off the table and presents it to me with a kind smile. Yet, his smile is all blurred to me and I feel like his face is moving around making it look all disproportional. 

_What if they think I’m a weirdo?_ I ask myself while I try to wipe my hands off so my hands won’t feel all moist when they touch Eiji’s. But it’s like a waterfall streaming from my hands, there’s no way I can dry them before grabbing the dice.

If my hands are all wet, Eiji will think I’m a freak. He might make a comment about it, no he will laugh and that will makes everyone else laugh at me as well.

My cheeks get warmer and I’m positive I’m even redder than a tomato right now.

Or maybe they’re so warm because I can barely breathe, because my heart is pumping like an idiot to keep me alive. My chest hurts, my throat feels closed off and I’m going to faint.

Eiji’s mouth moves, but I only hear muffled sounds.

“No!” I yell, gasping for air. “Leave me alone!”

I hit Eiji’s hand away from me and get up from my chair. I hear it falling onto the floor with a bang, right before I run to the toilet. The downstairs bathroom is my safe place, because it’s one of the few rooms in this entire house that you can lock from the inside.

As soon as my fingers make sure that the door is closed off and nobody can get inside, I burst out in tears. In between sobs, I gasp for air as I try to dry my hands with massive amounts of toilet paper. I can’t stop crying and sweating.

There’s no way I can ever show my face again now; most of them have never seen me have a panic attack before. My face must’ve been all red and I looked like a weirdo out there.

Jessica talked with me about this so many times. She understands me better than any of the other grownups, but maybe that’s just because she followed a one year long study to become our group’s mini psychologist.

She talks with people and gets us our prescriptions, and after the last time I changed medication she promised I’d never have a panic attack as bad as this one again. The Zoloft should help, but apparently it doesn’t and I’ll still embarrass myself day in, day out like I used to do before getting on medication.

It’s embarrassing to freak out like that, it scares the people around you and it makes you look like an idiot. More than anything, I’m disappointed in myself.

I made a fool of myself again. I’ve been relying on the pills so badly that I actually believed that I might be able to participate in a social activity like a normal human being.

That isn’t the case. I freaked out this time even more than I usually do, meaning I’m getting worse again. Is it the amount of people that is so hard on me and makes the pills lose their magic, or is it the fact that I can’t get myself to trust them enough.

Do they also feel this way, and can they just hide their panic better than I do. Or is my brain wired wrong and am I really as much as a freak as everyone sees me, and as I see myself?

I was tricked… or rather, I tricked myself.

Tears pour as I hear their laughter. I wonder if they’re laughing about me embarrassing myself like that, or if they’re just all able to have fun without any care in the world.

I struggle to get the air to my lungs, because I feel like I’m missing out on all the fun.

I cry, because I always exclude myself from fun activities.

It hurts, because I don’t know if I’ll ever feel good enough about myself to experience fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Whether somebody makes someone else happy, these are the things you can't control.


	5. These Are Things You Can't Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who makes who happy, those are the things you can't control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There,
> 
> I don't think this chapter needs any trigger warnings, but if you come across anything that could be disturbing to some people, let me know and I'll add it to the trigger warnings :)
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Max Lobo**

It’s already getting dark outside when Griffin asks me to help him set the table for dinner. Usually we’d be already eating by now, but we all just seem a little off schedule today.

Maybe it’s because Griffin’s leg is acting up, or Ash’s strange behavior this morning, but most likely it’s because of Eiji’s arrival.

“So, Max,” Griffin asks while stirring his homemade vegetable soup. “Is Jessica eating here tonight, or will she cook at home for herself and Michael?”

Griffin asks this on all days Jessica works. Even when Jessica and I had fallen out of love, he’d ask me every time for some reason.

I now know why; he wanted to see me happier. Ever since Jessica and I got into our divorce, he had to hear me whine about her and how she didn’t allow me to see Michael and how I just wanted her to take me back while also wanted her to go to another country somewhere far away so I wouldn’t have to see my ex-wife ever again.

All Griffin wanted was for Jessica and me to get back together.

If you’d ask me, he succeeded, because nowadays she’s always here in the evenings on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. She sometimes eats with us and brings over Michael when she drops by after work, so she can be there for the kids.

At first it was all fighting whenever she came by; she would have some annoyed or mean comment on everything I said and did. But ever since she decided to do a speed curses Psychology, she kind of works here too. So from now on she drops by to talk with Shorter, Ash, Yut-Lung and Sing at least three evenings a week.

They love her… okay, they don’t mind talking to her, but they like her better than they liked me when I just started working together with Griff.

And I have to be honest, I love that she does this, because it means she and I have had some important talks and are actually dating again since a few weeks.

Of course it also included that I was allowed to see Michael every few days, which I couldn’t before Jessica started working here too. Before, I had to fight with her to get to see the child I helped producing, but now she brings him here willingly, lets me hug him and some days she even wants to hug and kiss me while sharing a blanket after everyone’s to bed.

I put on a plate on the table and think about what Griffin asked me just now. For once I know the answer, because Jessica just texted me that she’d be picking up Michael from the out-of-school care. She’ll drive both of them here right away, so she’ll be eating here.

Just when I open my mouth to answer, I hear a key slide in the keyhole. It’s soon followed by the sound of a door opening, and Michael’s voice squeaking, “Daddy, we’re here!”

My heart melts at that sound and there’s no way I’ll stay in the kitchen and not greet them.

“Speak of the devil.” I chuckle, putting the plates I’m carrying down. With a smile I wander out of the kitchen to welcome my son and, well, my girlfriend.

The second they see me, Michael lets go of his mother’s hand and runs in my direction.

I crouch down onto the floor and say my son’s name in all its glory.

“Daddy!” his happy voice shrieks while he jumps into my arms.

I hear chuckling from in the living room, where everyone is being a couch potatoes like every other normal evening. But when I realize they all saw my happy way of welcoming Jessica and my son, my cheeks get redder and I feel slightly embarrassed.

I know they’re going to be making fun of this for god knows how long. They’re all slight problem children and they all know how to get under my skin.

“Talk about being dramatic,” Ash says in a cynical tone. “You literally see each other every two days, right? And anyway, didn’t Jessica point a gun at you last time we saw her?”

I frown, because instead of a comment about the sugary sweet greeting, he’s doing his weird thing again. I can see it in his eyes; he’s still not sure if what he’s saying is real or not and it makes him doubt every move he makes while at the same time causing him to say even more nonsense than he normally would.

“Daddy?” Michael asks, his eyes big and confused. “Did mommy really do that?”

I immediately shake my head, because Michael is still way too young to realize that all the teens that live here have problems of their own. He has no clue that Ash’s huge fantasy that can invasion the biggest of castles for Michael to play in, also causes him to dream up all sorts of universes. All of Ash’s alternative universes that play in his head cause him to make all sorts of stupid mistakes, because unlike a normal person, he’s convinced his fantasies are real, but I never told this to Michael and neither has Jessica.

I look up at Jessica, who’s glaring at Ash with huge eyes; we both know that he’s acting weirder than usually. Everyone in this room knows Jessica would never point a gun at me; I mean, she’s badass enough, but she wouldn’t do it ever in her entire life.

Ash clearly sees our expressions chance, and since he’s been pretty aware of his mistakes all afternoon, his face immediately grows gloomy.

“Shit,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his head with the palm of his hand. He looks like he’s going to cry, that or he’s going to explode and make a scene again.

“Hey, Michael.” I pat my little boy on his head and get on my feet. “Why don’t you help Griff out in the kitchen? He can use someone strong like you to stir the soup for him.”

Michael senses the tension, but still smiles wide and giggles before making his way to the kitchen like I asked him to go outside and play with his best friend and a ball or something.

As soon as he leaves the room, I look at Ash who’s looking like he’s listening to the voices in his head. His expression is stuck between apologetic and extreme anger, the one that always ends in him screaming and going up to his room to punch something and cry.

“It was in one of the-“ Ash’s voice trails off, as if someone is talking right through the middle of his sentence. Yet we all know what he was going to ask.

“It’s alright,” I say, forcing a smile because right now I can’t do anything about it. Like I told Griffin earlier, we’ll have to consider sending him to a real psychiatrist and maybe even actually get him on a mental ward at the hospital until this bad force in his head releases him and gives us back the Ash that has lived a fairly normal life for years.

But Ash doesn’t have to know that, so it’s better to keep him calm for now. Or at least until Griffin has decided on what’s best for Ash’s mental health.

“Why don’t you take a little breather in your room?” I suggest, hoping Ash would like some time for himself so this won’t turn into a fight at the dinner table.

Ash takes a deep breath and nods before moving towards the stairs. As soon as I hear a door shut upstairs, I get dragged away by my arm. It’s Jessica taking me downstairs, where we can talk without the others hearing us.

“What was that about?” she asks, sounding both offensed and worried. “Me pointing a gun at you? He’s really spouting bad nonsense today!”

“Tell me something,” I answer while rubbing my face with the palms of my hands. “He’s still convinced someone killed Griff and therefore doesn’t want to listen to his older brother anymore, probably until he realizes that he dreamt it.”

Jessica stares at me with eyes as big as porcelain plates, her mouth is slightly gaping.

“I know right.” I sit down at the lowest step of the stairs and groan; never in my live had I thought Ash’s mind would get this disorganized. He used to be such well mannered boy, even though he has always struggled with mental health issues, but ever since that night a switch flipped in his head and caused pure chaos. He has no manners anymore and cannot see what’s wrong or right, real or fake.

“This-“ Jessica’s voice trails off.

When look at her, her expression is lost. She stares at the wall she’s facing and her mouth is moving, almost as if she’s speaking every word she’s thinking. She only does this when she’s really worried and really lost, so she must not know anything we can do even though she’s one of the few of us who has actually done a curses; she should know how to help.

“Have the rest acted so off too?” she asks me after a long silence. “Meaning, could it be because of Eiji’s arrival that they’re all a little different today.”

I shrug, but I don’t know the answer. Of course I also thought about that being the case.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Sure, Shorter has acted more timid and clearly has more anxiety, Yut-Lung ate even less than usually and, well, Sing has just been his excited self all day.”

I think about Ash’s behavior. How he’s been acting pretty calm during lunch and in the entire afternoon. It almost seemed as if Eiji was the reason why Ash was as calm, so he couldn’t also be the cause of Ash’s weird behavior right?

“Ash on the other hand.” I start to explain how he seemed to be doing so well for most of the day. He even played a game with everyone and he spent almost his entire afternoon downstairs with the entire group.

“We have no clue if it was the meds working,” I say. “They usually don’t work at all.”

Jessica closes her eyes briefly, and I know she knows what I’m going to say.

“You think it was Eiji making Ash act this way,” Jessica fills in for me. “Right?”

I nod.

Looking at it from the bright side, if it’s true that Eiji makes Ash feel all calm and alright, it’d mean we have found someone that could actually help Ash’s psychological wounds heal. But on the other hand, it’d mean Griffin would never be able to take care of his little brother because if the meds don’t help, and it’s all Eiji’s work, that would mean Ash wouldn’t ever be able to tell the difference between reality and fantasy. He might be convinced that the Griffin he’s seeing is just a ghost for the rest of his life, which would be heartbreaking.

“You want to put the intern in charge of Ash,” Jessica whispers, more a statement than a question or so it sounds. “What about Griffin?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head slowly, because I don’t have a clue how to bring that news to him. He took care of Ash for as long as every one of us can remember. “But if Eiji makes Ash feel better, as one of the few things in the world, it might be our only chance to get Ash to smile every once in a while. Also…”

“It’s better than locking him up in an asylum,” Jessica finishes my sentence, nodding. “You might be right, maybe we should talk it over with Griffin.”

I nod too and get on my feet. We won’t speak about it until we’re with the three of us, Griff, Jessica and I, so we can talk about it in private; that’s something Jessica and I know.

There’s hope inside of me, hope that with a little help of someone that Ash trusts we might be able to make him feel happier than he has felt in years. But I also don’t want to take Griffin’s little brother away from him; it’s basically all the family he has left.

But after everything, we know that in this job we do, there are not many choices that are left up to you. The patient’s health comes first, and we must do what we have to even if that means sacrificing a close bond between two half-brothers.

That’s why I hate moments like this, where I have to make choices while I know there’s not much options to begin with; after all, these are the things that you can’t control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Four years ago, something inside Ash snapped.  
> What happened that terrible night?


	6. A House Where The Walls Talk Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happened in the past and as a result Ash snapped...  
> What was it that happened to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> I've officially finished writing all the drafts for this story!  
> I'm now working on a couple of one-shots - mainly Banana Fish - that will probably also be posted on this account within the next few days.   
> So if you're curious to see a fix-it fic for the ending of BF or you feel like reading an alternative universe where Ash is Eiji's special model, make sure to take a look on my account after reading this chapter (I know, shameless self-promotion, sorry!)
> 
> But for now, enjoy this new chapter!  
> I don't know if there's real trigger warnings needed, but do let me know if you think something in this chapter might be disturbing for some people!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Aslan Callenreese**

_Four years ago._

It’s late at night and I’m curled up on the couch waiting for Griff to come home. He’s been out all evening, doing job interviews all across the country.

It’s because of me that he needs to earn money.

I can’t work for the money to pay my prescription pills, but the doctors said I really need them. I might get insane without them, or that’s what the internet tells me.

After being diagnosed with multiple mental disorders over the years, they’ve decided that I really need to take the meds they give me. So now, because of all these psychiatrist and doctors, Griffin has to work his ass off.

He hasn't even got the time, but still he's applying to every workplace. If he gets accepted by even one of the workplaces where he applied to today, he'll be doing one job in the morning, another in the afternoon and evening, and he'll do nightshifts at a hospital every two days.

Meaning that because of me he barely has any time for himself. Hell, he hasn't even got enough time to sleep enough hours every day.

We both know he's working himself to the bone. When I saw him this morning he was dressed so nicely, but the bags under his eyes and the way his face has completely collapsed made him look less like a good worker and more like a street rat.

I curl up into a little ball, hoping he'll be back before I fall asleep.

In the last month, I've barely seen Griffin at all, while the rest of my life he basically took care of me day in day out.

My breath shivers while I try to ignore the fact that it's way past the time he promised to be it home. He's literally two hours too late and I'm starting to get worried; no matter how tired I may be, I won't go to bed until he gets home.

Instead of laying underneath my warm blankets on this snowy night, I'm sitting on the bench with a nightlight, hoping I'll see the headlights of his car sooner than later.

_"He left you,"_ a voice says, one that's been annoying me for days now. It disappears from time to time, but it seems that every time I get worried about something the voice in my head decides to reassure me that the worst happened for real.

I shake my head, because it can't be; Griffin would never leave me. If he would want to leave me, he would've left me already years ago. He would've dropped me off at an orphanage when I got into that huge fight with our father three years ago. But instead of leaving me, Griffin left with me. He made a deal with our father and because of Griff we can live in our father's old house until Griffin has earned enough money to get us an apartment in the city.

He wouldn't leave me after working so hard to stay with me; he literally dedicated his entire life to his stupid, crazy, half-brother.

That's what I tell myself, because I can't belief those stupid voices; they're just my disease playing with my mind.

I wrap the thin blanket around me tighter and pull my knees to my chest as I sit there and wait. I wish I could keep my eyes open longer, at least until I hear Griff's keys sliding into the keyhole, but I'm too tired. At three AM my eyelids start to get too heavy and there's no way I can keep them open any longer. But I don't want to sleep, because if Griffin's not by my side, the nightmares will haunt me. They're always so realistic, so sad and scary.

Now it isn't any different; I feel like I'm drowning in my own sweat, and I have just barely closed my eyes.

My entire body shakes and it feels like I'm having an out-of-body-experience seeing myself lying there like that. The sounds of sirens echoes through my head and my ears feel like popping. I tell myself it's just in my mind, but it all sounds so real; ambulances, or maybe they're a fire truck or the police.

With the sound of a doorbell I get dragged back into my own body.

I'm shaken by all the sound that fills the room when I wake up. I can still hear the sirens. Red and blue lights light the entire living room and the sound is deafening.

"It's just I nightmare," I tell myself, because that's what Griffin would say if he were here.

I pinch myself in the arm, because I have to wake up and get away from this deafening sound. I punch the wall when they don't go away, and by the time my hands are starting to bleed the pain is starting to get too unbearable; I'm stuck in this nightmare.

_"It's real,"_ one of my voices yells. _"You dumbass, this isn't a dream!"_

The doorbell rings again and my first reaction is to jump up from the couch. Maybe the person outside the door can help me, maybe they can tell me what I have to do to wake up, hell, maybe Griffin forgot his keys and is waiting for me outside.

I slowly walk towards the door, dragging my feet behind me as if I'm sleepwalking, because that's what I'm doing right?

My hand rests on the doorknob for about four seconds before I turn it and open the door.

In front of me there's a tall guy and he's at least twice as broad as me. The older man is wearing a police uniform, but I must be hallucinating that; we haven't done anything wrong so why would the police be here?

"Can you help me,? I whisper, my voice breaking at the thought of being stuck in a nightmare where the police is coming to my door because we've done something wrong; I don't want to have to go on the run. "My brother hasn't gotten home yet, and I'm stuck in this nightmare... I don't know what to do, sir, please help me."

The man has a sympathetic look on his face when asking if my parents are home.

I shake my head; why would my dad be home.

"I-I." Tears start running over my cheeks and I start to shake even more than I already was, because I'm lost and because this man looks like he can't change anything.

"Your brother hasn't gotten home, you say?"

I nod and tell him that Griffin had a couple of work interviews this evening and he promised to be at home about three hours ago by now.

"Look, kid." The policeman's eyes meet mine and I'm sure I don't want to hear what he's going to say. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but your brother isn't coming home today."

I take a few steps back and frown at the guy.

Right on cue the voices appear, _"He left you."_

"He didn't leave me," I snap back at the voice. I really don't have time to listen to these stupid voices that keep telling me foolish things.

The policeman shakes his head and tells me that I'm right. "Your brother didn't leave you."

I glare at him; how does he know anything about Griffin.

"Your brother, Griffin Callenreese, got caught up in a car crash."

There's nothing; I feel empty.

Unable to cry at the thought of Griff getting in a car accident, because this is just a dream after all. Any second now, he'll shake me so I'll wake up from this terrible nightmare. All I can do right now is run from the nightmare, so I slam the door shut and crawl to the corner of the room, the one furthers away from the front door.

"Hey, wait!" the man sounds on the other side of the thin-wooden door.

With my legs pulled up to my chest, I press my hands onto my ears.

I can't listen, I shouldn't, because this isn't true.

"Please open the door," he says in both a stern and begging tone. “I get this might be frightening to you, but they’re trying to save your brother right now.”

_“They’re lying,”_ one of the voices whispers to me. _“He was in a car crash, so he must’ve died.”_

My throat feels like someone is squeezing it shut and tears drip from my eyes.

“H-He…” There’s no way I can say it out loud, the D-word.

_“Died!” my demon shouts. “Griffin’s dead!”_

I shake my head, trying to block out the laughter of the voices. Nothing works, they’re cackling and screaming and it feels like their voices are right beside me.

The walls close in on my when the voices torment me by shouting over and over again that Griffin has died. I try to ignore them, but it’s impossible now matter how hard I press my hands onto my ears and no matter how tightly I shut my eyes.

I scream, my screech echoing through the hallway like sirens in an empty street.

There’s a loud sounds, probably in my head, followed by a hand grabbing my shoulder. With that all the voices stop yelling and the walls stop trapping me.

I open my eyes, in hope to see Griffin sitting next to my bed to tell me this was all just a bad dream. But I’m not that lucky, I don’t deserve to have that happiness.

When my eyes open I start crying, because Griffin is nowhere to be seen. I’m still in the hallway, and the policeman is the one that silenced all my demons.

He says something, I don’t know what because all the sounds have disappeared, but I nod as an answer. Before I know it the policeman takes me outside, where it’s freezing and hot at the same time and when he drapes a blanket over my shoulders I feel just as empty as before.

We sit in the car and I’m positive he’s telling me something, but my vision is blurred and everything sounds miles away. My sight tilts and with that I get send to the dark room that houses in my mind; I’m chained up and there’s white writing on the black wall.

_“Dead. Dead. Dead.”_ That’s what it says over and over and over again.

There’s laughter and the black walls close in on me. I can’t get away, I’m chained to the ground and screams erupt from my throat when the black walls start to squish me.

But no one hears my screams. There’s no help on the way. And no Griffin sitting beside my bed to wake me up when the nightmares start to torture me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter;   
> Yut-Lung hears talking downstairs while he's throwing up on the rare times that he eats.


	7. Throwing Up on the Rare Times That I Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yut-Lung overhears a conversation while he's throwing up the little food he ate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I don't know if I should even say it, but I'm sure this chapter can be triggering to some people.  
> If you're badly affected by;  
> \- Talking about weight/warped vision of weight  
> \- Describtions of self-induced vomiting  
> \- Negative thoughts  
> \- Mention of drugs/addiction  
> DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Yut-Lung Lee**

The sour taste the rises up my throat, when my finger reaches down, is like freedom to me. The thought of the food I just ate leaving my body after just a couple of minutes feels better than anything else in my entire live.

Okay, maybe not better than everything, but it does feel great.

Everybody seemed on edge during dinner and therefore they paid even more attention to me. I was forced to eat and actually swallow at least twice as much food as I would normally eat in the evening. The more people come here to help out with the care-house, the harder it gets to get by dinner, lunch and breakfast without eating.

Fortunately, everybody’s also very distracted; they’re talking downstairs because they think we’re all asleep. This leaves me the opportunity to get rid of what I ate without having Blanca lecture me afterwards.

I open my eyes look at the lumpy substance that’s floating in the toilet.

 _It’s not all!_ I immediately tell myself. That’s only twenty percent of what I ate today at its most, so I can’t walk away from this without doing this at least five more times.

It has to be all gone if I want to lose all of that weight again.

They keep me here against my will, so the least they can do is let me lose the weight they put on me. All of those humps and bumps, I’m all bloated because of the pills they stuff inside of me against my will. They literally give them to me so I gain weight, just like they force me to eat when I’ve made my decision of wanting to be as slender as I used to be again.

But day in, day out, they force me to eat so much more than I should and they even inject that awful medication if they have to. The fluid they put in my body stays there, meaning it makes me all fat, and the worst is that it doesn’t even have any other side effects.

After taking the pills they give me or letting them inject me with anything they want, I feel nothing; no pleasure, no pain relief or feeling calm in any way.

Just bloated butts and fat side-tissue when I look in the mirror, that’s all the side effects these sorts of “drugs” curse me with.

The tip of my finger slides to the back of my tongue. The wet rag of human meat wraps itself around my middle finger before jerking upwards; causing bits of what’s still stuck somewhere in my body to rise with ease.

This is the only sensation of pleasure I can get here; to spit out the extra calories they force me to put in my body. While otherwise I would’ve still been living my street life.

I liked it outside; every day something new happened. Or so I think, because I don’t remember much of the years I spend on the streets. All I remember are the moments in between the many hours of constant pleasure.

I remember being happy all the time and being able to smile back when I wasn’t stuck inside some house with a couple of idiots. Everyone here is crazy, or so it seems.

They need the twenty-four-seven care they get here, but to me it’s just a nuisance. They won’t give me anything that’ll give me some pleasure, except for some time for myself every once in a while; this time I could use to get into the cabinet and steal some of the good stuff they keep there, or maybe it’d be possible to sneak out if my weight wouldn’t keep me from wanting to show my face.

A fat pig like me doesn’t deserve to go outside of these walls. So instead of making a plan to escape from this mansion, I try to use it to get rid of the weight I gained.

If I lose it I can show my face outside again, and if I dare to go outside again I can make a run for it. I can pick up my old life again and steal something of one of my dear friends that might or might not still be hiding from the police during the daytime and making awesome deals during the nighttime.

But for now, I’m stuck in here.

Instead of escaping, I spend the moments after every meal hanging above the toilet in a hope to get rid of the calories that entered my body. Sliding my finger into my throat to experience at least one thing that makes me feel happy about myself.

When my chest contracts for the third and I decide that there’s no more food that’s going to leave my body, I flush and get on my feet. I feel dizzy for a second, almost as if I might pass out, but for some reason it also feels nice to have my head feeling so light that it’s almost as if there’s no single worry housing inside of is.

This only lasts a short time though, and then all of my worries come flooding back to me.

The first thing I have to do after eating is weigh myself, because it’s important to know that my hard work is actually paying off for me; I have to know I’m actually losing weight.

Without any hesitation I get out the scale and step on it.

The numbers move up like an Oliphant has just stepped onto it and they come to a stop after at least five seconds; if I’m that heavy this isn’t healthy.

I glare at the scale and realize I’ve even gained weight. With a sturdy 97 pounds I can practically feel my knees giving up because of the massive weight they have to carry around all the time. How am I still standing after dragging that with me all day.

I knew I ate way too much today, and I didn’t get rid of enough of the calories in the food. I shouldn’t have given in to Blanca when he practically shoved a buttery bun into my mouth; that must’ve been the culprit of today.

Annoyed with myself in so many different ways, I step off the scale.

I feel like throwing it away, but that would mean I could never double check it after eating. I have to see that progress when I put so much work into losing those pounds.

I groan when I place the scale back into the cabinet and force myself not to look in the mirror. I’m going to see where those pounds are, and that will only get me more annoyed with myself. Or I’ll get even angrier with them.

I’ve hated them from the very moment they literally dragged me off the streets. I didn’t ask them to safe me when I passed out, I didn’t ask them to take me to a hospital where they’d pump my entire body full with fluids, formulas and medication that made me this fat.

But they did it anyway; they even were able to keep me here against my will for the first weeks after they captured me because the hospital’s treatment had weakened me so much.

By the time they gave me a choice that was staying or leaving, the only options they gave me was stay here or go to a rehab facility where they would treat me “better”.

I don’t need any treatment, that’s what I told them and that’s what the truth is. At a rehab facility they would never let me leave, they’d just overfeed me and physically keep me away from the few things that bring me true pleasure.

That’s why I decided to stay, hoping they would see that I didn’t need any help and would let me leave within a couple of months. They proofed me wrong; putting me on an extra-food diet and a no drugs, alcohol or smoking schedule within the first week I could stand on my own feet again after being bedridden for almost an entire month.

The “treatment” started one and a half year ago, and look where it got me. My knees are so weak from carrying that weight, my body has stopped processing the food normally that’s how much they feed me here and I haven’t felt any happiness since they locked me up in this stupid house of theirs.

With shaking legs and many annoyed sighs, I leave the bathroom.

I hear them talking downstairs, probably about some new treatment for one of us or something. I’m not interested in their foolish plans, because as soon as I’m down to 77 pounds I’ll leave this place. I’ll leave it behind like they tried to make me do with my past.

I’m on my way to my bedroom to maybe so some pushups, or if I don’t have the power to lift my 97 pounds from the floor, I might even just do some fidgeting with a pen if it means I’ll lose just a little bit weight. But I hear their talking loud and clear all of sudden and stop moving in the middle of taking a step.

“You want to do what!?” Griffin’s voice echoes through the entire building, sounding worried and scared as if someone just told him they want to shut down the shelter he worked so hard to build. But unfortunately that’s not what’s going on.

I listen to them talk about a plan to put Eiji in charge of Ash, because apparently they think it would be good for him. According to Max it’d be their only chance to keep Ash out of an asylum; he’s gotten more and more insane over the past few weeks.

I wonder how many times they’ve thought about taking Ash to a real hospital to have him checked up, because as we all know that Ash is by far the craziest of all of us.

“Eiji would be our best bet,” Jessica adds. “He might be the only one Ash might consider listening to now that he refuses to listen to Griffin.”

I chuckle, because their plan is just laughably foolish; Ash isn’t someone that listens to others. I thought they would’ve understood by now that he’s is as uncontrollable as a wild animal; no one, especially a short Japanese kid, can tame Ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Eiji has to look after Ash, because Griffin can't right now.  
> He now really sees how broken this boy actually is.


	8. Battle Scars still in your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji is shocked by the responsibility they gave him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I already apoligise in advance, because this chapter might or might not have gone up late... I've had a BUSY day with college and actually am going to a friend in a short while, therefore I barely had any time to post, but since you read this I've probably posted the chapter by now. Maybe it has gone up a little earlier than normal, in that case you're lucky. Maybe this chapter has appeared hours later than usually, this means I was at my friend's and couldn't post, or I got home and forgot I still had to post.   
> I hope the latter won't happen, but I apoligise just in case. 
> 
> Now enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Eiji Okumura**

Never have I been awake for an entire night, but when I see the clock show five AM I realize I haven’t been able to close my eyes for the entire night. All those hours have passed and all I’ve done is stare at the ceiling.

I still wonder why they already gave the role of a leader after just one day.

I don’t get why they need _me_ to look after Ash for the time being. Is it because they have no one else, or is it really because of the reason they told me; Ash hasn’t smile in months and they’ve seen him actually smile while he was around me.

When I told mister Ibe about it he couldn’t be happier for me, but all I could think about was how stressful this is going to get. I’ve seen how much of a problem child Ash can be, snapping like that and even hurting himself in the process, and they think _I_ can handle that.

Ash is broader than me, not even to mention how much taller he is, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep him from hurting himself or others if he snaps.

I’ve been thinking of ways to tell them that I can’t do this, but I can’t risk them sending me back to Japan because they can’t use me if I refuse to do the jobs they give me. So instead of continuing to think of reasons not to do it, I’ve been coming up with ways to wake Ash up this morning.

I’ve seen how he acted towards Max when he was asked to take a shower and come downstairs for breakfast. It wasn’t like any normal teen with a normal temper, he acted like a devil and did the exact opposite of what Max told him to do.

They might all be able to handle that, because they seem to know Ash for at least two years already, but I don’t. I don’t know how to react when Ash snaps.

Even though I feel like I still have days left to figure that out, I know that in just three hours I’m supposed to wake Ash up. By then I have to know what to do and how to get him to actually listen to someone who’s less than two years older than him. And if I’m unable to help the poor teenager, he’ll have to go to a real psychiatric hospital and it’ll be my fault.

I take a deep breath and roll onto my side, praying that I’ll do my job well. The second that my eyes close, because I have to at least try to get a little bit of sleep tonight, I hear screams.

Deafening shrieks echo through the entire house and they’re from upstairs.

Knowing that they’re from Ash, I throw the blanket off myself and slowly slide into my warm slippers; it’s not like I was going to get any rest tonight anyway.

I take my hand through my patchy curls as I make my way through the pitch black hallway. The cries of terror get louder and louder and by the time I get to the stairs my head is hurting like it does whenever I’ve had a sip of alcohol.

I look up and see that there’s someone climbing up the stairs. At first it’s just as shadow to me, but when I notice the way he’s using a crutch to drag himself up the steps, I immediately realize that it must be Griffin who’s on his way to comfort his younger brother.

“I’ll go,” I suggest, running up the stairs with a couple of steps at a time.

Griffin’s shoulders jolt when I appear beside him. When his eyes meet mine, I can see the red streaks under his eyes; he probably also barely has slept this night and looking at the color of his eyes he’s probably been crying instead of resting.

“Oh,” Griffin mumbles in between pants. “Eiji, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Jet lag,” I say while shrugging; he doesn’t have to know that their plans freaked me out so much that I wasn’t able to sleep. This surely isn’t a jet lag, because I’m exhausted.

There’s a long silence before Ash starts crying louder again.

Griffin tells me that I should go and wake Ash up. I can hear in his voice that he wants me to go back to bed so he can look after his little brother, but we both know that he can’t.

“Right,” I reply under my breath before running up the other half up the stairs.

There’s another set of stairs I have to go up before reaching the hallway where the sound of Ash’s shrieking becomes unbearable.

And as I push through the door to Ash’s room and see him lying in a pool of his own sweat I wonder what this kid has gone through to be this haunted by nightmares.

When I get closer I see that Ash is clenching his blankets as he screams.

“Ash,” I say at a decent volume while I carefully lay my hands on his shoulders and shake him so he’ll wake up. “Ash, wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”

In an instance Ash’s eyes shoot open and he throws himself into my arms like his life depends on it. He slowly but surely stops screaming and switches to soft whimpers when I rub his back with the palm of my hand.

“I-It… they… I-“ Ash’s voice is very hoarse when he talks, which must be because of all the screaming of the past minutes. “I was so afraid.”

Ash’s green eyes meet mine and for a moment he looks really confused; I bet he was expecting Griffin to sit here on the edge of his bed. If that’s how it has been for over seventeen years, I can understand that Ash might not be too happy that I’m replacing his brother right now. I wish it were different too, of course.

Ash’s lips part for just a second, but instead of saying something he just closes his mouth again. His expression grows gloomy and within seconds he starts crying.

I can’t sit here and watch him wipe his own tears like he’s doing right now. But what should you say to somebody that’s not only suffering from terrible nightmares, but also is moaning his very-much-alive older brother who’d normally be here instead of me.

Not knowing what to say, I just try to calm him by rubbing his back and pulling him against my chest so he can cry out; he gives into this and starts sobbing almost immediately after realizing that he’s awake and safe. As he cries, a wet spot develops on my shirt.

When I look up I see Griffin leaning against the doorpost; he’s staring at Ash and me.

At first it seems like he’s just making sure that I don’t make any foolish moves, but when Ash wraps his arms around me and starts to cry even more Griffin averts his gaze.

I watch him raise his free hand to his face and, even though he’s really clear, it takes me a moment to realize that he’s crying too.

I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for Griffin to see his brother hug me so tight because of some stupid nightmare. He’s unable to walk into the room and calm Ash down, even though that’s what he’d normally do in this situation.

Instead I have to come in-between the two brothers like some home wrecker. It makes me wonder if I was the reason why Ash thought Griffin died in the first place; maybe he thought that my arrival meant someone had to be replaced. And in his mind, that someone must’ve been his own brother.

Or maybe it was one of these kinds of nightmares that got to him. It seems that these haunt him so much that he might easily belief that they’re really happening to him right now.

As I try not to think about it too much, Ash pulls at my clothes, clenching them as sobs of terror leave his mouth. It sounds like he’s being tortured so much by these nightmares.

“It’s just a bad dream,” I whisper as I rub his back over and over again in an attempt to calm him down a little. “You’re safe, I’m with you.”

Unfortunately my words only make him sob even harder, and I have no clue what I’m doing wrong that’s making him cry so hard. Or maybe I’m just doing it so good that he feels like he can relief himself when having my arms wrapped around him.

I see Griffin limp away from the corner of my eye, he probably can’t watch his brother like this any longer. And I know it’s my fault Ash is crying so hard.

But like I promised Griffin yesterday, I won’t disappoint him or Ash; I can do this.

So no matter how long I have to sit here and talk to Ash so he might eventually calm down, even if it means rubbing his back to tomorrow morning, I will stay by his side.

I will be the person that’ll take care of Ash when Griffin can’t.

I will be the one that makes Ash smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Is Yut-Lung really trying to lose weight that badly?  
> Sing does not understand why... not at all.


	9. You Made A Man This Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing is getting worried about Yut-Lung... because why does he wants to lose his weight so badly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> Again, I apoligise about being late to uploading the last chapter!  
> This one is on time, and I hope you'll enjoy it :)
> 
> Trigger warnings:   
> \- Mentions of losing weight  
> \- Describtions of blood
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Sing Soo-Ling**

“Pink, purple, blue,” I mumble, sliding my finger past the colorful plates that have been stacked up in the kitchen cabinets. “Pink, purple, blue.”

Today they’re all nice and orderly put down, but sometimes people tend to mess up. There have been times when the white plates got mixed up with the colorful ones or when they were in a weird order like “pink, blue, pink, purple” which is, as all of us should know by now, just not the right order.

I’m glad that everyone still lets me do this, because I’ve already been banned from checking all of the windows before going to bed and making sure that the toilet seat is down before and after someone, anyone, goes to the bathroom here.

They all say it’s not good for me to have my mind occupied with such irrelevant things, but if I don’t check them it makes me feel all stressed out. And what would I have to think of otherwise? Should I think of boring stuff like what I’m going to eat for lunch or what I’m going to do with the rest of the hours of the endless amounts of days, because that would just make life so much more boring.

Now, by thinking about whether the doors are closed, the plates are color sorted and the towels are correctly folded, I’ve at least got something to keep myself from being all hyperactive all day; someone like me needs at least ten things to think of at once, otherwise I’ll go all crazy, or so it seems since the only time I felt like I was going crazy was when my parents put me on some sort of drug that should reduce my activeness.

There were so few things I could think of at once, because my mind just didn’t think of any more things, and those days that they had me on that medication I felt so bored.

Being “normal” sounds like a curse to me, even when some people look at me like I’m some strange alien or something, I wouldn’t trait my quirks for an empty list of thoughts.

When I get ready to close the cabinet, because everything is neatly ordered and double checked by me, I get startled by a loud crash. It’s like someone throwing glass against something that’s much harder and the sounds of it is deafening.

With adrenaline jolting through my body, I feel the need to run to the place where the crash was coming from; maybe something interesting is going on. But as soon as I storm into the bathroom, which’s door was miraculously unlocked, I realize that I’ve made a mistake.

Yut-Lung is sitting on the floor not wearing a shirt. His chest has collapsed in most places, the only features that still show are his sharp ribs that stick out of his scrawny chest.

His boney hands squeeze the tiny amount of loose skin that’s on his upper legs so hard that the skin has become completely red in between the yellow-ish white marks where his fingers press down. Not only does his hand hold long tuft of Yut-Lung’s hair, but there’s also strains of black hair lying on the floor almost like he pulled it out forcefully.

He looks up at me, tears in his eyes.

There’s a broken scale lying on the other side of the room and I know that that’s what I heard crashing into the bathroom wall just a short while ago.

“Yut-Lung,” I whisper, the words barely able to leave my throat; I’m startled by how famished Yut-Lung looks underneath all those layers of clothing.

“Just leave me alone!” Yut-Lung shoots back as his hand reaches for a piece of clothing that’s laying just a little further into the bathroom. He presses it against his chest and glances at me in terror; it’s like I just walked in on him cheating on someone, instead I accidently entered the bathroom while he was weighing himself.

I knew Yut-Lung was skinny underneath those clothes, but not _this_ scrawny. I can see the white of his ribs through his almost translucent skin; he looks like he belongs in a horror movie or one of those girls in documentaries where people that are too scrawny get on this special diet so they’ll gain weight again.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I go in against the order to leave; I wander into the room, because it’s clear that Yut-Lung needs someone’s help. Maybe I can help him.

“Sing,” he cries out, his face scrunching up. “Just listen to me for once.”

I stick out my hand to him, in an attempt to help him get back on his feet again.

“Are you alright, Yut-Lung?” I ask him, but all his does is glare at me in anger or terror.

I need to get him out of the bathroom; if I get him outside of this room we can see if Blanca or Griffin may be able to help him get back the massive amounts of weight he has lost.

Instead of taking my hand, Yut-Lung slaps it away from himself before shouting, “Just leave alright! I don’t need your help!”

I press my hand against my chest, cradling the spot where his scarp nails cut my skin.

“Yut-Lung.” My voice is calm, for the first time in my entire life, because I genuinely want to help him get out of this awful state. It’s because I don’t want him to die because of starvation, we’ve got enough food here so there’s no reason for him to.

Just because I want to be of use for once, I decide to ignore his wishes and I crouch down beside him. While trying to wrap my hand around him, in an attempt to calm him down and dry his tears, some force pushes me away. A small push of Yut-Lung’s tiny hand against my chest is enough to make me lose my balance.

At full speed, I tumble backwards and my head crashes against the metal doorpost. The sound of my skull cracking echoes through the house; alright, maybe not that dramatic, but it does hurt when the sharp edge of the doorpost cuts through the skin of my head.

I sit upright, immediately pressing my hand on the bruised spot.

Everything is blurry, shaking like an earthquake is happening right now.

Before I can realize what just has happened, huge hands rest on my shoulders and they lift me up from the floor; there’s only one person here who can actually carry my weight.

“Sing, are you alright,” Blanca immediately asks, his voices causing my ears to ring.

I nod, still all shaken by how Yut-Lung pushed me away so quickly.

There’s a warm spot where my head hit the metal and my entire brain feels like it’s moving as we speak, but other than that I’m alright. With my hand still pressing down on the cut in my head, I stare at Yut-Lung.

He’s lying on the floor now, jolting as he sobs. He’s completely different, out of character almost, because in the year that we’ve been living in the same house I’ve never seen him act like this. I’ve never seen him physically hurt someone, nor have I ever seen him cry.

Blanca’s hand wraps around my hand, the one that’s pressed up against the back of my head, as he says, “Let’s take a look at the damage, alright?”

I look from him at Yut-Lung and back at Blanca again; doesn’t he have to help Yut-Lung first. But Blanca immediately shakes his head, as if he can read my mind, and whispers, “Give him a couple of minutes to calm down.”

I nod, but I don’t think Blanca sees it as he’s busy looking at my head. I wonder why it takes him so long, but when I look at my hand I realize why; the palm of my head is covered in dark red, thick globs of blood.

“We have to clean this out,” Blanca says after a while. “And I have to see if it needs stitches or not, but I can’t see it because of the blood.”

Yut-Lung’s body starts shaking, almost as hearing that he actually hurt me makes him feel even worse. But all I can think of is how I’m making him feel bad right now, because I’m the one who got hurt and now he’s going to get blamed for it.

Trying not to feel too bad about it, I follow Blanca to the kitchen where he gets out the first aid kit and a wet towel. He immediately hands me the kitchen towel and says, “Press that on the wound for a little while, and try not to rub it too much that way you can make it bigger.”

He walks away while I take a seat at the kitchen table with the towel pressed up against the back of my head. I immediately wonder if he’s going to check on Yut-Lung now.

I sit on the chair, but holding the towel against my head starts getting boring sooner than later. Like a rush in my body, I feel the urge to do something, anything it all.

Tapping on the side of the chair quickly becomes boring, so I start humming but I don’t know the rest of the stupid song that’s stuck in my head.

Sitting here almost feels like one of those time-outs, the ones where you have to sit on a chair for a certain amount of minutes because you’ve done something wrong. I’ve had those kinds of time-outs a lot when I was younger. Teachers would put me in the corner at least five time a day, most days even longer, for everything I did; fiddling with my pencil, humming, speaking without standing up first or walking away from my time-out before enough time had passed, all of it got me punishments so often that it drove me crazy.

This reminds me too much of it, so I soon start to get annoyed and restless. I’m shifting my position, because something in my mind tells me to, and I think of ditching this whole first aid care that Blanca will give me if it means I can do my own thing again.

“You can put the towel away,” his voice sounds from behind me.

I do as he tells me, happy that I’m not all on my own in this silent room anymore.

As he pushes away the hair around the wound and concentrate on whatever he’s trying to do by placing his finger on top of my scraped and cut skin, I try not to want to walk away.

Knowing that I have to keep my mind occupied, I start thinking about the windows upstairs; I might check them when we’re done, just like the bathroom window because I don’t want Yut-Lung to climb out of it now that I know he’s skinny enough to fit through any gap.

“Has Yut-Lung always been so skinny underneath his clothes?” I ask when I’m starting to get bored of thinking what I’m going to do later today, but can’t do now. “Like, it doesn’t seem healthy to literally have skin on bones only.”

Blanca takes a deep breath and replies by telling me that that’s one of the reasons why Yut-Lung is here. It surprises me, because I was told, by Yut-Lung himself, that he’s here because of some sort of business that has to do with drugs. Other than that I just figured, from how he always asks people to fetch him some special kind of meds that makes you feel all loopy, that he might suffer from some drug addiction or something.

Never has anyone mentioned him being here because of his weight.

“He’s really struggling with his weight,” Blanca explains. “The medication he’s received before he got here made him feel bloated and now he feels like he should lose the weight again, this isn’t healthy but our job is just to make sure he eats and that the food he does eat stays in his body for the normal amount of time.”

Suddenly I know what that hurling sound I hear at night is; Yut-Lung must be vomiting up the food that he ate during the day. Maybe I should also make sure he doesn’t do that, because we don’t want to lose any of us because of some stupid thing in his mind that tells him to lose the little weight he has.

I used to be jealous of Yut-Lung’s slenderness, but now it’s just looking unhealthy. I have to help him want to gain weight, make it a game to eat food, because making things more fun makes you want to do it or so I’ve been taught.

I keep my mouth shut while thinking of ways to get Yut-Lung to like gaining weight.

They don’t have to know that I plan on helping Yut-Lung too. Instead I bite the inside of my cheek and wonder what his parents did to him to make him this way; they must be devils if their child believes he has to be thinner than thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Eiji is too perfect; he can't be real.


	10. I Know You Tell Me There's Nothing Wrong With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji's too perfect...  
> Ash is convinced he can't be real.

**Aslan Callenreese**

Every minute they ask me again and again if Eiji is really real.

The voices, just as I, are convinced that I made him up. He’s just a figment of my imagination, because no one is as perfect as this short Japanese guy, right?

I watch him from across the living room; he’s humming happily as he irons our clothing. Never in my life have I ever seen a real person enjoying cleaning, ironing and caring for other as much as Eiji does, what must mean he’s not real.

Other do seem to see him sometimes, what causes me to doubt if he’s only in my mind, but on the other hand Shorter’s reading a book on the bench and isn’t at all annoyed my Eiji’s off-key humming.

I don’t want to belief that I made him up, because if I have that would mean I’m really getting nuts. And if he’s really real, that would mean I’ve finally found a person that uses words instead of force. Somebody that talks to me when I’m sad.

Like this morning, he sat on my bed with me for god knows how long and wasn’t at all bothered by it. He just sat there, talking to me like a normal person should when somebody else is sad, yet other than Griffin nobody has ever been that patient with me.

I feel myself blushing when I realize that I’m glaring at Eiji as he’s ironing my favorite pair of sweatpants. But he’s too perfect not to stare at; his bangs are just slightly hanging in front of his dark brown eyes and the way there’s a ghost of a smile on his face is adorable.

_“Come on, Ash,”_ a voice whispers to me. “ _He’s clearly fake!”_

I shake my head to get the voice to leave, because even though I’ve been wondering it myself too, I don’t want someone to tell me it’s really just my imagination.

“What are you looking at, Ash?” Eiji asks while not even looking up at me.

He always seems to notice everything I do, like he has eyes all over his body. And he’s never mad with me, even now that I’m literally staring at him, he has a smile stuck to his face.

“N-nothing,” I reply, stammering for no special reason.

Eiji chuckles and looks up at me. When the light that comes from outside hits his eyes it’s almost like they’re filled with sparkles. The most beautiful sparkles that don’t disappear when his eyes meet mine. In comparisons to every other caregiver at this house, Eiji doesn’t look at me like I’m some insane person that should be locked up somewhere far away. The way Eiji looks at me is like I’m a fellow human being, one that doesn’t hear voices all the time and knows the difference between real and fake.

He lets me talk about my nightmares and doesn’t immediately pretend like they’re nothing even though it’s clear they haunt me every single night. They’re like reality to me, yet nobody other than Eiji and Griffin has ever seemed to realize that.

I look away, because I shouldn’t get attached to people that might be made up; who knows how badly my brain wants to torture me with my own instability. But even though I tell myself not to look at Eiji again, I catch myself sneaking glances at him again.

At first I feel like everyone is going to be silent for forever and it's going to be really awkward. Fortunately after a while Eiji's voice sounds again, making my heart skip a beat happily. It's when I realize what he just said that my stomach seems to knot itself.

"You know Griffin's still alive, right?" Eiji asks in an innocent tone as if no one told him that the Griffin he's seeing is just a ghost. "And you're making him really sad by refusing to talk to him like that."

I feel my body tense.

"That's not true," I reply. "I saw him get shot."

Eiji's eyes meet mine, and even though I want to belief him I can't. I literally saw him die, he was shot by someone I didn't recognize. There's no way Griffin survived that, because they called his death-time and his body was so pale it must've been a corpse.

"You probably don't know this," Eiji continues, with a straight face that means he's either really good at lying or he's speaking the truth. "But I've seen Griffin cry this morning, he was really sad that he couldn't be the one of comfort you when you woke up."

I shrug; how could Eiji even know that?

Griffin was already dead before Eiji and I met for the first time, so there's no way he even knows how Griffin looks. There's no way that he knows that Griffin has always taken care of me, or that Griffin might've possibly cried when he wasn't dead.

"He's actually trying really hard to make you see that he _is_ alive," Eiji says raising his voice before it breaks. "I hope you realize that."

I stare at him in disbelief; why is trying so hard to feed my hallucinations?

"Oh yeah?" I reply, forcing my voice to sound more harsh and less uncertain than I actually am. "If he is really alive, then tell me how he's trying to show that to me? Because I can't see it, so it must be all lies."

Eiji swallows and for a moment I'm sure he has nothing to tell me. He can't tell me I'm wrong if he has no proof.

But then his expression gets all serious and he even puts down everything he's doing.

"First off, ghost don't exist," he says. "So how come all of us can just talk to him?"

"I don't know," I snap back. "You're just all completely bonkers, that's not my fault."

Eiji doesn't reply to me, he just continues listing reasons why Griffin could be, and according to him is, alive. every detail varying from the way that there's no proof that Griffin has actually died, because there isn't any grave or memorial or anything at all, to the little things like the food that we eat that has been cooked by Griffin.

With a gaping mouth I look at Eiji. He just listed all the arguments I used against my voices, but they all refused to listen to me. Now Eiji has proofed them wrong, he has shown me that maybe everything I thought of and hoped for might actually be real.

"All I'm saying is," Eiji starts folding shirts again now that he's gone through all of his proof. "Griffin is very much alive and he's cooking your dinner in the kitchen right now, probably whishing that you'll soon realize that he is actually there."

I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes at the thought of my older half-brother being alive and well. It couldn't be, right? But it still would make me happier than anything else. For the past two days, all I've done is wish for him to come back to me.

Maybe he never was dead to begin with, and it all was a hallucination, but I'd also like to belief that Eiji is just some angel that heard my prayers.

The light shines from behind him, causing him to appear like he has a halo around his head; maybe angels do really exist.

"So," he continues. "If you want proof that your brother is still alive."

I gasp; he has even more proof?

"Go to the kitchen and..." Eiji's eyes meet mine and he smiles kindly. "I don't know, maybe just talk with him and it’ll make you realize he’s really there?"

Even though my voices, together with my gut, tell me not to go to the kitchen because it'll only haunt me, it's like my body is moving on its own. I jump up from the couch and run to the door. When I turn around the thank Eiji, I see the wide smile on his face and the mild blush on his cheeks; he seems genuinely happy that I'm listening to him. Never in my life have I seen someone _that_ perfect, but something in my gut tells me that I've also never have seen something _that_ real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> See? Griffin's really actually alive!


	11. Breakable But Not Yet Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash can see it, Griffin knows that Ash knows he's real too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> I hope I have time to post on Thursday, because I'm so busy with college and my internship and all...   
> I've finished the draft for this story, so that won't be a problem, but I can't promise the next chapter will be on time.
> 
> Now, just enjoy this one!  
> Love, Noa <3

**Griffin Callenreese**

The chicken is hissing loudly in the pan.

It's a sound I genuinely love, because I love to cook; it calms me down. But still, never in my life have I felt so sad while cooking for everyone. Even right after my accident, when I could barely stand and I needed more help than ever, I didn't feel depressed when being able to make food for Ash. It made me feel at least somewhat useful.

But now, because I know he's not even going to realize that I cooked it and not someone else, it makes me sad to see the crusts on the tender chicken brown.

There's no fun to making food when the person that you cooked your first meal ever for, won't stop ignoring you. Ash just keeps pretending that I'm dead, or actually he's certain that I am very dead. It’s probably the voices telling him again, or some nightmare that causes him to completely erase that line between real and fake.

I sigh as I start turning the pieces of chicken.

More than anything I'd love to toss away every bit of food that I've made today, because it just feels worthless right now.

Watching Eiji take care of my little brother was like a blow to the stomach, because that's been my role for seventeen, almost eighteen, whole years. Never have I heard Ash screaming for help without going to him straight after.

This morning was my first, and I truly hated it.

A knock on the kitchen door startles me and I almost drop a piece of chicken.

"Yeah?" I mumble, even though I'm really not in a mood to talk to anyone. "Come in."

The door opens with a lot of creaking and I realize that I really should fix the door sometime soon. When I look at the door to see who just walked in, that thought immediately leaves my mind.

Ash is standing in the doorway with a calm expression on his face.

"Griffin?" he whispers, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the noise that the damper. "Y-you're really here."

I frown, does he actually belief I'm still alive? I wonder if he has finally realized it.

"Eiji was right." A smile appears on my little brother's face. "You're really here."

I smile back at him, but I have to try my hardest not to cry; in almost two days Ash hasn't dared to look at me even once. He's been ignoring me, refusing to hear or see me. And now, because of Eiji, he's standing right in front of me. He's talking to me!

"Yes," I answer while nodding. "Yes, Ash, I'm here."

With those words Ash's face scrunches up and tears start streaming down his face. In an instance, he's buried his face in my shirt and I can't do anything but wrap my arms around him and cry too.

"I'm always here, and I won't die," I whisper in-between sobs. "I promised not to die that one time, and I keep my promises."

Ash lets out a loud and strained cry and hugs me even tighter. His nails dig into my back and his chest is basically flattened against mine so tightly that I can feel the vibrations when he says, "I'm sorry, Griffin."

Confused about why he's apologizing, I frown.

"I should've known that it was just another nightmare," Ash cries. "I should've known, but I didn't."

I lay my hand on the back of his head and tousle his hair while reassuring him that there is no reason for him to apologize. He's my little brother, and if someone knows how exhausting Ash's hallucinations can be, it's me. After all, I'm not just his older brother, I've also been the one that sat beside him every time a voice told him to do something bad, or whenever he had a nightmare that felt like reality to him.

"It's alright," I whisper in Ash's ear before pulling him against my chest again.

This feeling of comforting him when he's crying, I missed it these two days. Just holding him and reassuring him that it's going to be alright is what makes me feel somewhat useful. It's these parts of caring for someone that made me decide that I needed to take in other teens that had health problems, just like Ash, but no one to dry their tears.

"Still," Ash mumbles into my shirt. "I'm so sorry, Griffin."

I smile and rub his back with my hand until he finally stops sobbing. I don't let go of him and don't stop saying comforting words to him until he steps back himself.

His eyes meet mine, but I don't know if he's really looking at me; he looks exhausted with those red splotches on his face and the dark bags underneath his pale green eyes. But fortunately now he does realize that I am indeed standing in front of him, so he doesn't have to look at me to know that I'm always beside him.

There's a long silence between us, because none of us seem to know what to say. It lasts so long that by the time that Ash mouth opens, the chicken starts hissing again, meaning they're done and I have to put a new batch in the pan.

Ash realizes this right away and turns away from me, ready to leave the kitchen, but I won't let that happen. Ash and I haven't spoken in two days, I can't let him leave without actually doing something brotherly with me.

"Wait," I say, grabbing Ash's wrist.

Ash turns around to me in an instance, his mouth is gaping a little when he halts.

"Do you want to help me finish making dinner?" I ask, because it's something Ash and I used to do a lot when we lived together in our father's old house. 

Even though I worked a lot, especially after the psychologist decided that Ash really needed medication for his disorder, we'd always find the time to cook dinner with the two of us. That why every night, before my accident, we'd cook meals together because I knew Ash had to learn making dinner someday.

"Yes! I would love to!" A wide smile appears on Ash's face immediately after I ask him; it's like I just asked him if he wants to go to an amusement park or something. And with that we finish the rest of the meal.

While I make sure the chicken gets all crispy, Ash mashes the overcooked potatoes and sets the table. It all feels like it use to before, but I still have to try my best not to cry every time nostalgia hits me.

Of course, I am happy that Ash is okay and that he realizes that I'm really here for him all the time, but I'm also a little sad. Something in the back of my mind keeps telling me that something is going to go wrong someday, that his disorder isn't magically healed now that he's seen the difference between real and fake one time. Instead this might be the calm before the storm, who knows.

But when I turn around and see how Ash is putting down plates like he has done to help me out with dinner from such a young age, I can't help but push away those negative thoughts. I realize that I have to enjoy the moments that we have together, because I don't know when he will get worse. Some day he might not be able to see that difference between reality and fantasy anymore, so I have to be happy that I can spend these moments with him.

I tell myself this isn't the calm before the storm, because that can't be when there's no storm coming. Ash's going to be alright, I'm sure of it, because we have Eiji now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> All I can say is: Anxiety sucks...


	12. My Own Mind Can Lie To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety sucks... it makes your own mind lie to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> Just let me say that this has some mentions of social anxiety, but other than that I don't think this chapter should be triggering.  
> Other than that there's no real announcement to be made haha, so enjoy!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Shorter Wong**

My mind is racing, body sweating.

That's the same as every other day, but I feel totally different deep inside of my heart. Something black and dark is eating me up from the inside.

No matter how hard I want to ignore the toxic sensation of jealousy. I don't want it to take me over, work the few good things about me out of my body by filling me to the brim with awful thoughts.

It's Eiji's fault that I feel this way; he's taking my best friend away from me.

Ever since he's arrived, Ash has barely talked to me at all. Usually I'd get all freaked out by how talkative Ash could be towards me, but now I'm literally longing for social interaction for the first time since I was six years old.

But all of Ash's attention has been focussed on Eiji.

It's like the guy is falling for the Japanese caregiver.

I don't know why that would be the case; to me, Eiji is more terrifying than most nineteen-year-olds. He's just a last minute addition to a non-blood-related family, just an intruder.

At least, that's what me feelings deep inside of me tell me.

My brain, on the other hand, tries to tell me over and over again not to worry about it. Eiji's just a new person, and just like every new person that enters my life, it will take at least a couple of months to get used to him being here. It tells me to ignore my gut-feeling, because like always it's very irrational to be afraid of Eiji and it's even more foolish to get mad at him for making my best friend smile.

After everything Ash deserves to have someone around that makes him smile, something inside me is just jealous that I, as his best friend whom he's known for years, couldn't be the one to make him smile. But Eiji entered this house and suddenly Ash is cracking smiles all the time.

I from fists with my hands and try to breathe calmly, but every heartbeat screams that I have the right to be jealous of Eiji; Ash is _my_ best friend after all.

I should be mad at him, my brain tells me, but not because he's making my best friend smile. I should be mad at Eiji for making me feel like withdrawing from every social activity, for making me feel like I should treat myself like a background character instead of the main character of my own story.

At the same time my mind is also telling me to just get used to it, because if Eiji's really the person that can make Ash smile, he's going to be a keeper. Griffin's not going to let the guy go back to Japan if it's the only thing that makes his younger half-brother happy. Nadia wouldn't do that either if it were the only person that made me smile.

But instead of listening to my brain, I have the strong urge to listen to the jealous blood that streams through veins. It's telling me to get Eiji to leave, no matter how and with how much force, he has to leave this home of mine. He doesn't deserve to be part of our little improvised family, because I've been promised there wouldn't be any new additions to it anymore after Yut-Lung joined.

This can't happen though, not if I want to stay friends with Ash. Sending Eiji back to Japan would mean taking away Ash's smile, which should be labeled a crime. So I'll have to deal with Eiji being around.

My hands get sweaty at the thought of having to see Eiji day in, day out, making Ash smile. There's no way Ash would ever want to talk with someone as nervous as me after discovering what a real conversation feels like; no "uhm" or sweaty hands or stammering, just a real conversation with someone he actually thinks of as a good friend or maybe even more.

Every time I'm in the same room as Eiji I suddenly feel so nervous and stressed out. I can barely eat or drink when facing him during breakfast, lunch or dinner, let stand talking to him when we meet each other in the hallways.

"Just deal with it," I tell myself, because there's no other way.

I sit upright, because I'll have to leave my room sometime today. But as soon as I look at the door and realize that I might run into Eiji, my heart starts beating harder and it suddenly feels like the air is thicker than before.

Sighing I flop back down onto my pillow; I can't do this.

I can't leave my room and risk having to hold a conversation with someone like Eiji; what if I don't understand his awful English? Or what if he makes a joke I don't get and I make a fool out of myself because I don't understand? That would be terrible, I'd never be able to face him ever again.

So I won't leave my room today, is the deal that I make with myself.

Not going outside of these four walls sounds like music in my ears and slowly but surely my breathing calms down and my hands stop making wet marks in my bedding.

Just when I think this will just be a stress free day for me, there's a knock on the door. Like that my heart rate goes up again and I stammer heavily when I tell the unknown person that's outside to come in. For a second I'm terrified, because my mind is screaming that I must be my worst fear; it must be Eiji who's hiding behind that door.

Fortunately, when the door opens, Max wanders inside of my room carrying a little plastic box and a bottle of water.

"You forgot to take your medication during breakfast," Max says while cheerfully throwing me the plastic bottle.

I can just catch it, it would've been embarrassing if it'd hit me in the face which almost happened. Luckily that didn't happen this time.

Max sits down beside me on the bed and hands me my medication. It's nothing too heavy and we both know it barely helps me calm my nerves, but it's better than being haunted by fears and anxieties al day. Beside that it's good for me so I don't suffer from flashbacks all the time, though that hasn't happened in quite some time anyway.

"So." Max's expression grows more serious after I've downed the pills with a gulp of water. "What was going on during breakfast?"

I look up, confused; was it so obvious that I didn't feel hungry at all this morning.

"You barely ate anything at all," he states in a worried tone. "Is something wrong?"

I shake my head, but it immediately becomes obvious that there is as my hands betray me and start shaking like an idiot.

"It's the changes, isn't it?" Max confirms, he's right and I'm sure he must've heard it from his girlfriend Jessica. "Eiji's arrival, it's bothering you, am I right?"

I nod.

A lump forms itself in my throat when Max asks me why it bothers me that much. Why I'm having so much trouble with Eiji being a new part of this household. I do know why, but that it has to do with my fear of the friendship between Ash and me ending isn't something he has to know.

I shrug and take a moment to think about all the alternative answers I could possibly give him; there are too many options, most of which would only give him more reasons to ask lots of questions while I just want him to leave me alone for now.

"It just," I begin, my voice shaking mildly as I try not to show that I'm actually lying for about fifty per cent. "Eiji is new here and all."

Max nods in a way that he definitely learned from Jessica; it's a way of showing that you're listening to a person and want them to continue talking without you having to ask real questions. It's a psychologist's trick that doesn't always work for me, but this time I actually feel like I should give him a better explanation for why Eiji works me on my nerves.

"It's hard on me, b-because I don't know him. I can't read him and-" there's no "and" that Max has to know about, I soon realize. "That's all."

Max nods again, opening his mouth this time and saying the worst answer he could possibly give me right now.

"What if you try to get to know Eiji?"

My heart could beat right out of my chest and I'm sure my sweaty hands could fill a lake if I wasn't wiping them past my rough pants over and over again. There's no way I'll talk with Eiji when I don't have a real reason to, so I shake my head at least for two minutes without pausing once.

"Why not?" Max asks, tilting his head like a Labrador would do when begging you for your last piece of pizza. "He's a nice guy and he's easy to have a conversation with."

I look away, because I don't want to do this.

"Remember Jessica's assignment for this week?" Max says.

Anger and fear rise in my chest; how could he use this against me like this. He can't be serious about this.

"Yes," I whisper trying to force my voice not to shake.

Jessica was really clear in her assignment of this week; don't withdraw from any social activities.

"And don't forget it's even better if you sometimes start a conversation yourself," she had told me in a stern but cheerful way. "Therefore I want you to start at least five conversations yourself within the span of this week."

That was five days ago and I haven't started a single conversation myself. If I'm being completely honest, I'm only withdrawing from activities ever since Eiji moved in, because every time he also joins them whenever Ash does.

"It would be a good practice." Max pats me on the back at grins at me; that devil, using his connection with our psychologist against me.

I take a deep breath, because whenever Max or Jessica has something in their mind it's surely not hiding somewhere deep in their ass; they want me to do it and if I don't it'll mean I'll get some kind of punishment, like having to attend at least three group activities a day, next week.

"Alright," I reply while getting up from the bed and walking towards the door.

"I'm proud of you, kid," Max says before I leave the bedroom.

My knees are shaking heavily and there's no way I'm not going to stammer while talking to Eiji. I'm going to make a fool out of myself no matter what, but there's no going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> No spoilers, but shit basically hits the fan.


	13. The Joy, The Chaos; The Demons We’re Made Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I hope everyone is having a nice weekend!  
> Now, I hope this chapter won't ruin it haha...  
> Triggers:  
> \- Blood  
> \- Violence  
> \- SPOILERS for ep 9 of Banana Fish
> 
> Okay, that's it! Enjoy!  
> Love, Noa <3

**Aslan Callenreese**

I've felt great all day; It's a strange phenomenon, but I do like being able to smile.

Cracking a smile happens most often when Eiji is near me. It's probably because his accent is laughable and he has a strange habit of apologizing a lot which is really cute, especially when he does it with a silly smile it makes my heart skip a beat of happiness.

Every morning that I wake up with Eiji's voice is sure to be a good one; or that's how I experienced it the last days. Three days ago he helped me realize that Griffin was alive, the day after he literally seemed to get the voices silent by just being near me and yesterday he made my stomach feel all warm and fluttery.

I don't know how to describe the feeling that he gives me, but it's a nice feeling. It causes me to have to urge to smile and it makes me feel all warm, like you do when drinking hot chocolate milk with your friends and family on a snowy winter day.

It's something I have never felt before, but would kill to feel it over and over again for the rest of my entire life.

Other than that, my days have been normal. The pills still don't always work, which can be annoying especially during the night when I suffer from those terrible nightmares.

But at least the voices are calm down when Eiji is near.

And now, as I'm lying on the couch downstairs, trying my hardest not to fall asleep, the voices are still nowhere to be found. I am really sleepy though, never in my life have I realized how exhausting social activities can be when you do them all day every day.

So after lying on the couch, hearing the clock tick for almost an hour now, my eyelids start to get too heavy to keep them open. So I eventually fall asleep to the sound of splattering water and Eiji's faraway humming in the kitchen.

I, as always, immediately seem to get thrown into another body; my own body, but another version of it, almost like waking up in a universe where I'm not the rest of the time. It feels all disorientated, but real at the same time.

I'm sitting in a plane with some other people that are talking about a certain subject.

"What happened?" I ask, my voice sounding all strange and far away.

A voice, whom I have no idea it belongs to, tells me something about Shorter betraying us. He got Eiji in danger and we're now on our way to Golzine's in a plane so we can safe Eiji. And we also have to safe Shorter, because he would never betray me if he didn't have a good reason for it.

Next thing I know, I'm in a totally different room. It almost looks like a dungeon and I'm strapped to a wooden beam above me.

There's a cut on my neck and it stings like hell, but that isn't even the worst that can happen. Because the thing that’s happening in the middle of the big dungeon is the worst that could possibly happen in my entire life; Shorter is attacking Eiji.

With a knife in his dominant hand, he runs at Eiji while yelling loud. Deafening screams echo through my head and I can’t help but scream out to him, telling him to stop right now.

Like a possessed person Shorter swings with his knife; he’s clearly not hearing me. He would never betray us, he knows how much I care for both him and Eiji, so he must be used as a lab rat. The realization hits me like a train; they used Banana Fish on him.

Cries of my own ring in my ears and slowly get further and further away when I open my eyes. I’m in an out of body experience, not feeling my body as I look around a living room and start moving in the direction of the stairs.

I’m going downstairs where the bedrooms of the grownups are, but whatfore I don’t know.

_“You need to find a gun,”_ one of my demons orders me.

I listen, like a dog would listen to their owner. My voices own me and they know exactly what I should do in a situation like this. They tell me to search for a gun, there’s one in Griffin’s room, and shoot Shorter.

It wouldn’t be murder, because I’d just give him the freedom he deserves, right?

_“No, it wouldn’t be murder.”_

I sneak down the dark hallway that leads to Griffin’s room. There’s a gun in here somewhere, because after what happened in Nadia and Shorter’s past they begged him to be prepared for whenever a burglar broke into our house.

I don’t even have to force the door open, there’s no lock on it at all. The room behind it is completely ordered, just as expected, but as soon as I see no gun I know I have to turn this upside down as if my life depends on it. I don’t know it, actually, my body just moves on its own. It turns around tables and shoves aside the bed without thinking.

It’s like being trapped in my own body, or in someone else’s, because this can’t be my real body; what would my real body be doing in this house while last thing I remember I was in some kind of dungeon.

There’s no gun, but I know there should be one.

In anger, I hit against the wall causing a piece of wood to fall out of the wall. As if a magic force wants to help me, I find a revolver gun behind the piece of wall.

“Griffin, you’re so cliché,” I mumble to myself as I turn the gun in my hand.

It’s pretty heavy and when I check the cylinder it’s also completely loaded with cartridges.

I chuckle as I look at the gun in my hand, because the voices were right for once.

Turning the gun in my hand, I walk out of the room leaving Griffin’s bedroom in chaos.

Now all that’s left to do is free Shorter from his endless nightmares.

He doesn’t deserve to be so wasted because of Banana Fish for the rest of his entire life; he deserves to live, but if it is disabled or dead, he deserves the freedom he begged me for.

I drag myself up the stairs, because somehow my body is moving so slowly. It’s almost as if my brain is telling me to do what Shorter asked me to in that dungeon, while my muscles want to hold me back and tell me to do everything but that.

But I listen to my brain and push through, because I know what I should do to save my best friends; to free Shorter from terror and to safe Eiji from certain death.

When I’m halfway up the stairs, I hear stammering coming from the kitchen. I stop breathing for a split second and that’s followed by a feeling of a shattering heart.

It’s clearly Shorter’s voice. My best friend so badly hurt by Banana Fish that he can’t even speak properly.

My hands squeeze the gun as I think about how badly I want to kill Golzine’s. He’s doing all of this to them, and because of I’ll have to kill my best friend right here and right now.

“What are you talking about?” Eiji asks in a voice that is way too calm, he clearly has no idea in how much danger he is right now.

I’m standing right next to the kitchen door now, trying to get my hands to stop shaking and my eyes to stop tearing up every second after I blink. Realizing that it’s not going to stop anytime soon, I cradle the gun with my fingers and step out into the doorway.

I see Shorter, lock my eyes on his back and aim my guy at him.

I wish I had more time to take in how my best friend looks and acts normally one more time, but when Eiji notices me standing in the doorway I feel rushed all of a sudden; I can’t risk him throwing himself in front of Shorter.

So I close my eyes.

Take a deep breath.

And pull the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> ...


	14. Driving A Nightmare I Can’t Escape From

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a deep breath.   
> And pull the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> I'm not going to make this too long, because of last chapter's cliffhanger and because I'm actually sick and don't have the energy to make a long Authorsnote. 
> 
> Love, Noa <3
> 
> Trigger warnings:   
> \- Describtions of blood, wounds and other medical thingies

**Eiji Okumura**

Blood.

Blood covering my face.

Blood soaking my shirt.

I stare at the ceiling in terror while feeling the lukewarm substance spread all over me. There’s a heavy thing crushing my ribcage, but I don’t want to look at it.

I know what, or rather _who_ , is lying on top of me, but no matter how badly I want to get from underneath Shorter’s unconscious body I cannot move even a finger.

We were just having a normal conversation when Ash appeared in the doorway. Before I could move, or even think about what to do, Ash had already pulled the trigger.

It took him one second to shoot his best friend.

Literally one second to pull the trigger and possibly end it all.

Never in my life have a seen something that haunting. Even though I wish I would never have to see that again, the image keeps playing it my mind; Ash aiming and shooting, Shorter’s expression when the bullet flew out, almost like he was seeing his entire life before his eyes, and then the image of him being shot, the bleeding started and the fell on top of me. I see it happen over and over again.

As if in slow-motion, I can see his flesh ripping and the bullet disappearing somewhere in his abdomen. And as Max tells me, the second he carefully rolls Shorter off me while Blanca calls 911, I’ve been a lucky guy to not have been hit by the same bullet; it could’ve easily flown right through Shorter and shot me as well.

I don’t feel lucky though.

It’s not that I’m mad about my head hurting like hell because I hit it against the edge of the table, or the fact that one of my favorite shirts will be ruined for infinity and beyond; I’ve just literally seen someone get shot! Right in front of my eyes!

At that realization, that strangely enough only forms itself in my mind after lying on the floor for almost an entire minute, I start crying harder than ever before.

My tears are flowing so fast that I barely hear Nadia’s screech and Blanca’s loud voice telling Yut-Lung and Sing to go to their rooms now. Ash’s sobbing and Griffin’s calming voice trying to get Ash to leave the situation, it all sounds kilometers away.

I sit upright, when my body finally lets me move again, and rub in my eyes. Now that I’m looking at the mess Ash made, I feel lightheaded and empty more than sad.

The sight of Max breathing air into Shorter’s lungs while using his free hand to close off the wound doesn’t do anything to me, almost as if I’m watching some horror movie. I know it should rip me apart from the inside, but even though I’m crying, my heart feels inflated.

I feel the sticky and lukewarm clothing and instead of wanting to take them off so I don’t look like a murderer, all I can think of is “oh, how am I ever going to get these clean?”.

At that carelessness I start crying, because more than anything I just beg to feel something. Just a sign that this just didn’t make me some sort of living doll without hurt inside his heart, anything?

All I can think of is how they told me that Ash had barely ever been aggressive. That’s what they answered when I asked if I should worry about his temper.

I’m not mad in anyway, but I wish they would’ve just told me that Ash’s nightmares could influence him so much that he can, apparently, shoot his best friend without hesitation.

I sit there, in the middle of the beblooded kitchen floor with knees pulled up to my chest, when at least three ambulance nurses run inside. They’re on the foot followed by policemen who immediately go to where Griffin and Ash are.

I didn’t even hear their sirens, I realize after a couple of seconds.

The nurses go where I am too and immediately turn all their attention to Shorter; making sure he gets air and he doesn’t bleed out. They yell at each other to communicate and they’re loud enough that even I can hear them clearly through the ringing in my ears.

“Get a stretcher!” one of the men says. “We have to get him in the ER as soon as possible!”

Another man runs back to the ambulance while the third man turns all of his attention to putting pressure on the abdomen wound.

I watch them in terror, praying that I’ll wake up from this nightmare. Yet, every fiber in my being tells me that this isn’t a dream and I’m not going to wake up.

They lift Shorter on a stretcher and all I want to do is scream and tell them to leave him laying there like I’ve learned in my first aid class, yet in a country where guns are illegal they don’t teach you what to do when the victim is suffering from a heavily bleeding gunshot wound.

While they carefully do that, Max quickly tells me to drive with them.

“You hit your head against the table, and I’m pretty sure you’re bleeding,” he says while giving me his hand and pulling me upright. “You have to go to the hospital too.”

He points in the direction of the ambulance and tells me he’ll communicate why I go with them, all I have to do is sit in the back and don’t distract them.

In a dazed way, almost like sleepwalking, I slowly wander towards the ambulance and let myself guide me inside by one of the nurses. I’m told to sit down on one of the chairs in the back, I do as I’m told.

When they close the doors and we start driving, they also immediately start giving Shorter emergency treatment. They do this right next to me; checking his pulse, keeping him on a breather, putting constant pressure on the wound and making sure he gets new blood to replace the massive amount he has lost.

I feel like hurling, not because I’m motion sick, but because I’m seeing how huge amounts of tissues soaked in blood get thrown in the garbage can and how they puncture the blood vessel in his arm while standing in a car that drives god knows how fast.

In an attempt to stop my urges to vomit, I hide my head inside my lap; pressing my knees onto my temples while trying to breathe normally. This doesn’t quite work and the world seems to be getting smaller with every second that passes; is this what a panic attack feels like? I wonder while forcing myself to swallow and breathe and not freak out.

“Sir?” A hand on my shoulder startles me. “Sir!”

I look up, staring at one of the men, that isn’t busy with Shorter’s medical attention anymore. Or no, Shorter’s not even in the car anymore and we’re not moving.

“Huh?” I mumble, looking around the empty ambulance.

It feels like we just left Griffin’s shelter, but we’re already standing in the parking lot of the hospital. There’s no screaming filling up the car anymore, no ambulance noises or stressed out ambulance nurses.

“Are you alright?” the guy asks me, calm and slow.

I open my mouth, wanting to tell him that I’m completely fine because that’s what I would normally answer, but I soon realize that I’m not fine; my heartbeat is racing, my breathing’s still not normal, it feels like my head has exploded that’s how bad my headache is and not even to mention seeing someone getting shot.

Right. In. Front. Of. My. Eyes!

“No,” I answer. “Not really.”

The man looks up at someone dressed in white, she’s standing right next to the exit of the ambulance. She smiles politely when our eyes meet.

“Is it alright if I take you with me for a little while?” she asks. “There are some questions I have to ask you, but most importantly, I want to make sure you’re doing alright.”

I glare at her, not knowing what to reply; do I even have a choice.

“Okay,” I mumble, because every other English word seems to have left my memory.

I follow her inside, because I don’t have a reason not to.

And while she asks me questions, I take long to answer, because every part of me is busy praying for Shorter’s health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Now everything is ruined, everything hurts.   
> But in a little bit of time it won't hurt so bad... right?


	15. In a Little Bit of Time It Won't Hurt So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's broken, hurt... but in a little bit of time it won't hurt so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> People! I am getting healthier again; my cold is ALMOST gone, so yay!  
> As for what happens in this chapter, or the trigger warnings at least, I don't think there's much to know. So just enjoy!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Griffin Callenreese**

Honesty wasn't enough to keep Ash from having to be taken to the police office.

I hope he won't have to stay in the prison for shooting his best friend, because if someone knows that he didn't mean to it's me. We're lucky that Charlie will probably also be able to talk to his colleagues and explain that Ash isn't your normal rebellious teen.

I hope the combination of my honesty about Ash's mental health issues and Charlie's input will be enough to keep my little brother out of prison; it would break him if he'd be put in prison and he's already too fractured to begin with. We need to fix his scars instead of ripping them open again.

So my heart is beating heavily when I'm sipping coffee in the waiting room at the police office.

I don't even know if they're going to get Ash to talk, because even to me, Ash didn't want to talk at all after it happened. All he told me was that his demons told him too and he just couldn't move his own body. After saying that he started crying so hard that there wasn't even a way for him to talk in between the hoarse sobs.

If that wasn't enough, I'm also waiting for Max to call.

Cradling my phone in my sweaty hands, praying for good news to sounds through the speakers of my phone any moment now. But I've been here for hours and I haven't heard a thing from Max, who promised to call me as soon as they had news.

I lay my head in my hands and exhale as long as I possibly can before my lungs run out of air to breathe.

"This is such a mess," I mumble into the palms of my hands.

There's no beautiful way to put it; we made a mess out of this and I might lose everything I love. The worst part is, I feel guilty even though I have no clue how this has happened; Ash was doing so much better since Eiji joined our shelter. I saw him smiling all the time and he even told me that he was doing great a couple of times, which he hadn't told me in years before that.

All of that progress, gone in the blink of an eye.

And how here I am sitting on the police office, to wait if my little brother will have to go to prison for this or not, while I know that Blanca is dealing with a couple of more police officers and even a journalist at home. He called earlier to tell me that they're planning on taking Yut-Lung and Sing away from us too, because we had permission to keep our shelter there, yet they had trusted us to bring them to an actual hospital before it went wrong.

And well, it went down quickly.

Ash shot Shorter in a place that could easily be fatal due to internal bleeding of the organs. Fortunately, since Shorter was inside an ER within the golden hour, he still has a chance at surviving, but he's still at great risk. That's what Max told me in the short text he send me about two and a half hours ago, this was when he had just arrived at the hospital and Shorter was in the ER.

Max also told me that Shorter had been lucky that Ash has no experience shooting a gun, otherwise he would've hit a vital organ most certainly. Puncturing the brain, heart or even the lungs would've surely been fatal, but since he was shot in the abdomen area they give him about a fifty-fifty chance on survival and full recovery.

Other than that Max reassured me that our intern was doing alright. With a mild concussion he was doing at least a hundred times better than Shorter.

He would need some therapy to get rid of the images in his head, but we should all get some therapy after this.

I take a deep breath, I messed up so badly; I traumatized our young intern, I got my little brother to finally crack and I got one of the people I took in shot. There's no way I can ever forgive myself for ruining things is much.

Just I feel like getting myself a second cup of coffee, I hear footsteps from across the hallway. When I look up my eyes meet Charlie's, who looks more stressed out than ever before.

"And?" I immediately ask, hoping for good news.

Charlie closes his eyes briefly before shrugging and telling me that it depends on what I'd call good news.

"He doesn't have to go to jail?" I ask, because that's all I have to know.

Charlie shakes his head. "No, he can leave the office later today."

A smile appears on my face, because that sounds like good news to me. Yet, my smile immediately fades when Charlie continues.

"He can leave after we got him a spot at a mental facility," he explains. "Your brother isn't doing well, Griffin, and he needs professional care if we don't want things like this happen again. And like most of us said many times, you should've done this earlier."

I could cry right now; all this time I kept telling myself that Ash would get better if I just were near him. Look where it got us.

"I do think Ash might like it if you go see him right now," Charlie admits. "He seems a little lost and has asked for you, and of course for Eiji and Shorter, a million times already."

I nod, trying not to spill my tears. I'm not the one who should cry right now, I should be the one who is going to that room to calm Ash; I should be the strong one in this situation.

So instead of crying my eyes out, I get up and follow Charlie to where Ash is.

It's a little room with a table in the middle; one of those rooms where, in movies, they always ask questions to the victims and attacker. Apparently this is also where they interrogate the attacker in real live, and in this case my little half-brother is that attacker.

He looks so lost, glaring up at me as we walk inside. His lips are slightly parted and his eyes are filled to the brim with tears.

"Griffin," he whispers, his voice is really hoarse and he's barely talking loud enough to break the deafening silence.

I force a smile, because that's all he needs right now. I don't have to lecture him on not shooting his friends, ruining my work or traumatizing the only person that had the ability to make him smile; all Ash needs right now is somebody to comfort him before they send him to a place where I, or someone else to make him feel loved, won't be near him at all time.

"Griffin," he repeats, louder this time, before getting up from his chair and flying into my arms. He's basically flattening me against his chest, starting to cry again the second he can hide his face in my shoulder. "I was so scared."

I wrap my arms around him and tell him he'll be alright.

"I _am_ so scared," he repeats while digging his nails into my back. "I killed Shorter."

My body tenses, because I can't proof him wrong. He might've actually killed Shorter, his best friend, and there's nothing I can show him that will proof to him that he hasn't. All I have is Max's message saying that he is still alive and has a fifty-fifty percent chance of surviving, but that won't be enough to calm him down right now.

"We don't know that yet," I whisper in his ear. "He might survive."

Ash's grip loosens, becoming weaker as he asks, "He's still alive? Like, right now?"

I nod and, at that exact moment, my phone rings in my back pocket. A sensation of both happiness and terror shoots through me, because what if I literally just told Ash that Shorter's still alive and we now get a call that he hasn't survived the emergency surgery.

It could really well be bad news, it's a fifty-fifty chance it is after all.

Before I can reach into the pocket of my jeans, Ash has snatched the phone. With a tense look on his face, he picks up and brings it to his ear.

I can only hear muffled talking on the other side of the phone, but I don't understand what Max is saying.

I try to see what he's seeing in Ash's expression, but it's hard to see. At first he doesn't show any emotion at all, just nodding to the inaudible voice on the other side of the phone. But my heart seemingly stops beating when his face scrunches up and he starts sobbing louder than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Did Ash really kill Shorter?  
> Or not?


	16. You Lie There In Your Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did Ash actually kill his best friend?   
> Or were the doctors able to safe Shorter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> I am still sick... Yay.  
> No but really, when is this cold going to leave!?  
> Also my country is in lockdown again, just before Christmas, so that's fun... well, let's look at the bright side; I'll have lots of time to write now.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter include describtions of blood, a medical setting, spoken about death.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

** Nadia Wong **

I could murder him.

Because of Ash my younger brother nearly died.

Even though he's stable now, there's no way of knowing if he will make a recovery or if he's even going to wake up from the coma he's in.

My hand is wrapped around his, it's cold and sweaty as always. But that's about the only thing that is as usually.

His heartbeat is normal, according to the heart monitor he's attached to, and for the first time in his life his lungs actually refuse to take in air without the help of a ventilator. The tube reaching into his windpipe looks painful, and I'm suddenly really glad nobody I know ever got badly hurt and survived; I wouldn't want to see someone this way, especially not my younger brother.

_What else is different?_ I ask myself, because I need to have something to keep my mind occupied with something else than Shorter.

He's not shaking all the time, instead he's lying here so quietly that if you would tell me it's a corpse I would belief you in the blink of an eye.

I've been checking his heart monitor every two seconds for the entire night, making sure it's not lying to me. I couldn't sleep, because the thought of hearing that monotone beep made me nervous, and I was too busy crying to even close my eyes.

The amounts of blood he's lost, it's unbelievable that he survived. They told me that he had internal bleeding, but they had been able to complete the surgeries without any noticeable complications, but they don't know what it will be like after he wakes up.

The realization that the kid, I’ve been looking after for almost my entire life, almost died.

I take a deep breath, rubbing the back of Shorter’s hand with my thumb.

“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper while taking his hand up to my head and placing it on my forehead. I can’t belief his hands are this freezing cold.

“He will be,” a voice sounds from behind me. “I’m sure.”

When I turn around I see Eiji standing the doorway. There’s two extra large cups of coffee in his hands, and he’s clearly already drank a couple during the night because the large bags underneath his eyes are the proof that he didn’t sleep at all.

When he forces a smile and gives me one of the two cups of coffee, I know he’s doing this to make me feel better, but I don’t feel like having any social contact with anyone right now. I want to withdraw from everyone so badly, I feel more like a cheap Shorter knockoff instead like myself. I’m supposed to be that person who’s into social activities, but now, more than anything I want to yell and Eiji and tell him to leave me the hell alone.

“How is he doing?” Eiji carefully asks.

I feel like rolling my eyes and telling him to use his eyes for once; Shorter’s entire body is puffed up by the medication they gave him and, if that weren’t enough, he’s hooked up to all sorts of machines that indicate that he is not alright.

But instead of being the bitch that barely slept, I smile back at Eiji and pat on the plastic chair that’s beside mine, because Eiji deserves to know.

“He’s stable,” I tell him while Eiji takes a seat. “There’s been no chance in anything all night long, so I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“I can ask the nurses later, they most certainly know the answer,” Eiji reassures me before sipping from his coffee.

There’s a long silence between us, but the room isn’t quiet at all. The zooming of a ventilator and the constant beeping of the heart monitor makes this feel like I’m stuck in some kind of hospital show where the main character has just nearly died.

“You should really eat something, though,” Eiji says after a while.

I look up, knowing that he’s probably right. It’s noon, meaning I skipped dinner and breakfast so far, my stomach has been growling for the past couple of hours, but I can’t leave Shorter in case something were to happen while I was gone.

“Don’t worry,” Eiji whispers, almost as if being able to read my mind. “I’ll stay with him and make sure nothing will happen while you’re away.”

I swallow, cradling the cup of coffee in my hands as I hesitate before shaking my head.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I really can’t leave him.”

I know this might seem unlike me to Eiji, because I’ve been away from the shelter many time, leaving Shorter behind. But this has to do with a promise I made him when he was just ten years old; I promised him that, no matter what happened, I would stay with him.

On that terrible night I made a promise I would never break, which means that I have to stay beside him now that he needs his sister to be there. I will sit here, holding his clammy hands day and night, for as long as I possibly need.

“Why?” Eiji asks, but I can hear in his tone that he knows why. “You have to eat.”

I know I have to eat, he knows I know that too.

“No worries,” I tell him with a strained smile. “I’ll eat a little later today.”

Eiji takes a sip of his coffee and, while he does so, I see him nodding slowly in the corner of my eye. He knows not to tell me to go eat something, because he also knows every second that I spend away from Shorter could easily be his last second on earth.

We both know that Shorter might not pull through, no matter how much we pray or wish upon a falling star.

"Alright," Eiji replies and I can practically hear him thinking about dragging me out of this room if I still haven't eaten by dinner-time.

We both go silent again, because what is there to talk about; the weather? I don't think so.

I stare down at Shorter's hand holding mine, like we did whenever we had to walk dangerous paths and I didn't want to lose him in the crowd. It's gotten so much bigger since then, and I realize that I haven't held his hand in four years. It's almost therapeutic, sitting here like this, while at the same time every beep sends a shiver down my spine.

It's like, right now, the disinfectant odour fades and the beeping leaves the room. It's like every moment I'll hear Shorter's voice telling me that he's safe, he's alright, like he would do whenever he'd sneaked away from our safe place to steal food. It reminds me of the days when everything was calmer, even though we were never safe, we knew that as long as we hid soon enough we would never be in life threatening danger.

The sound of the scraping of metal over flooring wakes my from the daze of calming thoughts and I get dragged back into the reality; the beeping, the pumping and the life threatening danger that is even greater than an angry baker chasing you around with a pan because you stole his bread.

I look up at Eiji, who's slowly walking towards the door.

"I guess I'll leave you alone for now," he says when he turns around and notices me looking at him.

I nod, silently thanking him for both the coffee and leaving me alone when I need it.

I turn back to Shorter and take my hand through his greasy hair. They tried to clean it with a wet towel, but there are still red stains in his purple Mohawk, causes my stomach to turn.

It reminds me of last time there was blood in his hair, that time it was my fault.

I rub my free hand over my side when the rough edges of a scar hide underneath my shirt and I think back to that night. I think back to how we got here and how that was the moment that my cheerful little brother changed into someone else. Someone that didn't want to be around anyone he didn't trust, someone who was terrified of everyone and everything.

But I mainly think about how I could've stopped it from happening. If I made sure that that hadn't happened on an evening seven years ago, I wouldn't have been sitting here right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Seven years ago Shorter's life took a turn for the worst...   
> What happened?   
> And why does his life have to hurt so much?


	17. Why Does my Life have to Hurt so Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years ago Shorter's life took a turn for the worst.   
> What happened that night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> There's some trigger warnings for this chapter, including mentions of blood, violence and death.  
> Other than that, ENJOY!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Shorter Wong**

_Seven years ago._

Nadia's voice echoes in my ears over and over again as I run to the bathroom like she told me to. ‘ _Hide in the shower,’_ that’s what I repeat to myself.

There was a loud bang, followed by a crash and when I went to look Nadia immediately send me to bathroom. I'm sure she didn't I'd notice, but there tears in her eyes, making it clear that something is wrong.

I run into the bathroom, locking the door and hiding behind the shower curtain without turning the lights on. It's dark and so silent that even the smallest sound can startle me, like when I bump with my elbow against the tap and a drop of water splatters onto the ground with a little drip.

I'm shivering and shaking as I try my hardest not to listen to anything that isn't my older sister's voice telling me that it's safe to come out. But it proofs itself to be harder than I though, because there are screams and sounds of shattering glass echoing through the entire house. It's like I'm in a horror movie, not that I've ever watched one, but I could imagine what it would be like. The main character pressing himself against the wall of the dark bathroom while the big, scary bad guy is searching for him downstairs. Any moment it could go wrong, even one little mistake, one sound, can kill him.

It can kill me, probably.

With burglars getting into our house via a cracked window on the ground floor, it wouldn’t be strange if people would die. That’s what happens in some movies, right?

I just hide my face in my lap, praying to some god I don’t belief in that we will be alright. That mom and dad are fighting off the intruders like the coolest ninjas ever known to humanity while Nadia calls 911 and rescues us all.

Some part of me holds on to this idea of my family being amazing and capable of doing this, but I know people are not that strong. I’ve seen people break before, at my old school, and it happens so quickly you can’t do anything about it anymore.

In situations like this, people break. I will break, my badass sister will break and even the grownups like mom and dad will break under the pressure eventually.

I hear a loud bang, knowing this isn’t good. It’s followed by a shriek that clearly belongs to a grown up woman; mom. She broke, shattered under the pressure of having to survive this.

I sit there, my back pushed against the tiled wall as I press my hands onto my ears whishing for this to be over. But it isn’t over, and when I hear another bang, I start to shatter slowly but surely myself.

Tears are being spilled when I realize what these bangs were; gunshots.

There’s even more, two more to be exact. I can feel everything shaking with every shot.

I can physically feel the safety leave my body, because I know dead well who pulled the trigger and who was shot; my parents made sure to make me smart when teaching me at home, so I’m not some dumb ten-year-old.

My family’s my everything, knowing that they’ve probably left me alone for the rest of my life, I know the only thing that has ever made me feel safe has left me too. Mom’s hugs and dad’s foolish jokes were all that made me feel at ease when nothing else made me feel loved.

And now that that’s probably gone, what is there to stay strong for?

As I sit here in the shower, hoping that the footsteps that come up the stairs belong to one of my parents instead of one of the thieves.

I wrap my arms around myself and, when I close my eyes, I imagine being hugged by everyone I love. It’s only a couple of people, my parents and my sister, but it’s enough to make my heartbeat slow down.

I can see them, feel their warmth, as I cry out and try to forget everything that’s happening around me. These might be my last minutes, if those footsteps belong to the thieves, so I better spend them being with the people I love.

I try to hug them tight and don’t let them go.

But my eyes shoot open when a knock sounds on the bathroom door. Everything gets cold, blood seems to flow less quickly even though my heartbeat has started racing again. I sit there and tears start spilling when I realize they’re not with me.

Another knock sounds on the door.

I’m all alone.

It’s all darkness around me and I don’t know what to do when the third knock sounds.

“Shorter,” a voice sounds.

Like a light in the darkness, my heart skips a beat; I know that voice.

“Nadia?” I get on my feet, running towards the door. “Nadia, is that you?”

Before I get an answer I unlock the door and hug the person standing behind the wooden door. Of course I was right and Nadia’s warm hug seems better than anything I’ve ever felt.

It takes me a moment to realize why it’s so warm, but when I feel a wet spot develop in my shirt. I step back in horror and take in Nadia from top to toe.

There are scrapes all over her cheeks, but that isn’t even the worst. In her right side, where blood leaks through her shirt, she’s clearly been shot. She’s pale and can barely stand upright, but she still grabs my hand and starts walking towards the stairs.

“Wh- where are we going?” I ask, hoping we’d be able to just go back to bed and forget it happened, but of course we can’t. Nadia will have to go to a doctor to get her wound healed and who knows how many weeks mom and dad will have to spend at the hospital after what happened to our family tonight.

“We have to get away,” Nadia mumbles, her voice tense as she practically drags both me and herself down the stairs. “Police could be coming any moment and… well we should get far away before they do, or we’re in big trouble.”

I frown, not understanding what she’s talking about until we walk past the living room.

There’s blood all over everything and there are four people lying on the floor; two men I don’t know and mom and dad, all surrounded by their own puddle of blood.

It takes me a moment to realize that we’re not going to a hospital, and that Nadia is clenching a gun in her free hand.

I shake my head, crying as I come to a halt.

“Shorter!” she snaps at me, grabbing my hand tighter and giving it a pull. “We don’t have time for this, we have to get away!”

I know what she did, even though I don’t want to belief it. She broke under the pressure, but not the same way that mom and dad, or the thieves. She cracked in a way I didn’t even know someone would be capable of and if I wouldn’t listen to her, she might shatter to pieces.

So instead of standing there and grieving like a normal person would, I follow Nadia outside. We run, even though she barely can walk, and ignore the sirens that sound in the distance when we hide in some narrow alley.

Nadia is trembling when she falls onto the ground, clearly in pain. She cries out while wrapping her shirt around the wound tightly.

“Aren’t you going to the hospital?” I ask, gesturing at the wound in her side which has been bleeding heavily for the past minutes.

She presses on the knot she placed on top of the wound and shakes her head. “I made sure to check, it barely scraped me.” She pats me on the head and smiles weakly. “I’ll be fine.”

After that she hugs me.

It’s cold and unfamiliar, because that happens when you’re shattered on the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Eiji's at the airport... and there's a war going on in his head.


	18. There's a War Inside my Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji's on the airport...   
> and there's a war inside his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> Merry Christmas!  
> As I post this it is Christmas Eve where I live, and since I won't be posting during Christmas I wanted to wish you happy holidays!  
> Make sure to have two amazing days with your close family; make sure to call your distant family and friends to wish them a Merry Christmas in a safe way!
> 
> As for this chapter, it's not another chapter of this story; no Christmas special, because when I wrote this I had no clue this would be uploaded on Christmas Eve. Yet, I do have some Christmas specials for you that've been uploaded this evening as well (more about that in the end note).  
> Now Enjoy!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Eiji Okumura**

The airfield is crowded when I push through the rows of people to get closer to my plane.

My plane will leave in about ten minutes and I’ve just arrived at the airfield a couple of minutes ago. It’s not like I want to leave, especially since Shorter still hasn’t woken up and I know that the people of the shelter really need someone to help out right now.

My parents found out what happened, because apparently it was all over the news, and they demanded that I’d come back home. According to them it’s way too dangerous in America and even mister Ibe, who was the one that had them agreeing on the internship, has called me to tell me that I had to fly back to Japan as soon as possible.

Everything has been ruined; they took away my chance to say goodbye to everyone.

Shorter’s still in a coma, fighting to stay alive while Nadia stays beside him twenty-four-seven, barely taking time off to chance clothes or eat.

Ash can’t to have people see him, because he’s in a terrible mental state and therefore only Griffin has been allowed to see Ash every few days.

Yut-Lung has been brought to a facility in another state, where they’re trying to help him get his weight back up and deal with not having any drugs, in an attempt to get him to feel better. And he, just like everyone else, also receives therapy sessions every week.

Sing and Skipper have gotten a paper route to help out Griffin, Blanca and Max, who have been busy keeping the shelter together; struggling to get the money together to pay for the rent and all the medical bills. They can’t even be here to say goodbye before I get on the plane, therefore I went all alone.

And now, as I’m walking across the airfield to get to my plane, I feel sick. I don’t want to go home, but I’m not sure why; is it because I don’t want to have another failed internship on my name, or is it because I will miss the people I met, maybe it’s because of something completely different but I wouldn’t know as I get pulled away before I can find out.

I remember talking to mom on the phone yesterday. She was crying, begging me to please come home. She said that she couldn’t have me near those awful crowds, meaning she was blaming Griffin and Max and the other people whom I’ve met for this unfortunate freak-out.

I got mad at her, even yelled which is unlike me, because it wasn’t their fault. Ash didn’t know he was doing anything wrong, he thought he was freeing Shorter from a terrible faith.

Griffin wasn’t hard enough on Ash whenever he threw a tantrum or ran his mouth, no, but neither was Max, Blanca, Nadia or I, so mom can’t blame what happened on them.

Sing and Yut-Lung had nothing to do what happened, and there was no way that Shorter knew he was going to be targeted and shot by his best friend if he talked to me, I explained to my when she tried to blame all of the other patients too; she’s convinced that it was everyone’s fault, except for mine.

The thing is, I’m actually sure it’s my fault.

I arrived and it was like the first fractures came into sight; Ash was doing worse, claiming that Griffin had died overnight, Yut-Lung got thinner and Sing got more focussed on his compulsions, and Shorter acted like he was terrified of me from the start.

I got there, the intruder, and everything fell apart.

That’s why there’s a knot in my stomach, because I’m going to leave all of this behind. I’m going to go on with my life and I’ll try to forget everything that happened in the past couple of days while they have to deal with the mess I’ve made.

Ash and Yut-Lung will have to live in a facility while they didn’t ask to be treated by people they don’t know, while they were treated by people that were like family to them before.

Shorter was shot right before my eyes, because I couldn’t stop Ash from firing the gun.

Nadia nearly lost her brother, and she still might lose him if Shorter’s not strong enough.

Sing and Skip might lose their home, while Max, Blanca and Nadia will lose their only job.

Griffin’s lost his lifework and had to give someone else the responsibility of taking care of his brother right after their bond had strengthened again.

And it’s all my fault.

Mom couldn’t see what I meant, shushing me when I freaked out and told her I at least wanted to stay and clean up the mess I’ve made. She told me that, of course, it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my mess to clean up, and I should leave it to them to finish what they started.

According to her, my only job was to come back home.

I still want to call her, and mister Ibe, back and tell them that I’ll pay them back for the ticket; I want to stay so badly. I don’t care about the danger, it’s not like Ash will shoot a gun again somewhere soon if he’s stuck in a psychological facility.

I lower my head and flop down on the chair after seeing on my watch that I still have a couple more minutes before my flight arrives. I know I can’t call them now.

All I could do it send Griffin a message, telling him to tell Ash I’m alright, because apparently Ash has asked for me many times, and make sure he knows I’ll miss him.

I take out my phone and open Griffin’s contact in Whatsapp.

We’ve barely got any chatting history, just a little chat we had one day before I got there and a couple of messages from this morning that I send to tell him where I had stored some money for him, so he could pay for some of the medical bills without all of them having to work their asses off.

Griffin didn’t want to take the money at first, but there was no way I was going to leave without paying them back for the messes I have made of their life.

“It’s the least I can do,” my last message reads.

That’s not a proper good bye, I know that, but Griffin was out working early this morning. Just like Max and Blanca, who’ve all got jobs to get at least a little money together.

I start typing, but delete my entire message about five times before sending one; all because my plane has landed and I have to get in before they leave without me.

I put my phone in my pocket and get on my feet.

With every step I take I want to turn around. My feet are dragging and my little suitcase wants to go back so badly as well, making me slower with every step I take.

I’m about to board my plane, already feeling sick before we leave the ground.

But just when I’m walking through the narrow hallway that leads to my plane, my phone starts ringing. I take it from my pocket and see Griffin’s name lighting up my screen.

“Yes?” I ask when I pick up, because he knows I’m about to board my plane.

“Come to the hospital.” Griffin sounds out of breath. “Now!”

I frown, slowing down my pace so it will take longer to get to the plane. I wonder if something happened to Shorter. Or maybe another accident happened while I was away and someone I know very well has ended up in the hospital as well.

“I can’t,” I reply with pain in heart. “I’m about to board my plane.”

Griffin mumbles something inaudible and then says, “I’ll pay you back for the ticket, but you really just have to get here, Eiji.”

I swallow, thinking about my mom’s voice when she’d find out about me throwing away all of that money that went to my flight. For ignoring her begging.

“I don’t know, Griffin,” I mumble, really hesitant about making my mother even angrier, about disappointing Ibe and making my waiting sister sad.

“But Eiji.” I’ve never heard Griffin beg someone like that. “It’s just…”

With hearing the end of Griffin’s sentence I come to a halt, causing the people behind me to crash into me. But I don’t care, I don’t even apologize as I turn around and start running.

As I run away from my flight to Japan, there’s only one thing I can think about;

Shorter woke up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> Like I said, today I posted 5 Christmas specials.   
> For the ones among us that like the fluffy stories that'll warm your heart, I have a Banana Fish AshEiji and a Free! ReiGisa Christmas special.   
> For the people that love something a little funny, I wrote a Haikyuu and Gintama special.   
> And of course, as you may expect from me, Christmas wouldn't be complete with an angsty - but wholesome - Free! MakoHaru fic.
> 
> If you feel like reading any of those, you could take a little look on my account ;)  
> (I knowwwww shameless selfpromotion!)
> 
> Now as for the next chapter:  
> A lost soul begins to breathe, that's all I can say. 
> 
> Love, Noa <3


	19. A Lost Soul Begins to Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well... A lost soul begins to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> I hope all of you had a nice Christmas!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Shorter Wong**

Everything hurts.

My lungs, my throat and stomach are all killing me.

At first there’s completely since, so my head is the only thing that isn’t throbbing with pain. But that doesn’t last long, because as soon as I open my eyes even a little bit, the talking of at least four people surrounds me.

I can hear the beeping of a heart monitor get quicker and quicker.

I wonder whose heartbeat it is, and why I don’t remember getting at some sort of hospital. I have no idea what I would be doing here, but my mind is too distracted to think more of it.

More than anything, I’m focussed on the massive amount of people in this room; it’s way too busy and the light is so bright that I can only hear the people who’re talking.

I open my eyes wider, letting the white light enter my eyes; it feels like my brain is on fire.

It takes my eyes at least an entire minute to get used to the massive amount of light, but when it does, an even greater shock is waiting for me; I’m in the hospital.

Not as a visitor, like I thought I was, I am _in_ the hospital bed attached to the monitor that’s basically blowing up by now. My heartbeat is not normal, but it goes down again when I hear a voice asking everyone to leave the room this instance.

It’s a nurse, who bows over my a few seconds after sending everyone out of the room.

“Hey,” she says with a polite smile, looking me straight in the eyes. “I see you’re waking up.”

I frown, confused by why does she sound so surprised. It’s not like I’ve been sleeping for so long, could it?

I nod eventually, because she’s not looking away and her eyes watching me like that makes me more nervous than anything.

“Do you know who you are?” she asks, almost right away.

I nod immediately, I know exactly who I am. But when she asks me to say my name and age, which I know are Shorter Wong and seventeen, my voice won’t work. It’s like having something blocking your throat, leaving you unable to talk at all.

“Don’t force yourself too much.” The nurse smiles politely and takes a seat. “Most people have a hard time speaking for the first hours or even days after being in a coma.”

_Did she just say “coma”?_

I gasp, which is soon followed by a painful pain shooting from my throat all the way down to a specific spot in my stomach. Like a trigger my last memory comes to mind; I’m in the kitchen, talking with Eiji, when I hear the cocking of a gun behind me.

Fear races through my body again like it did that they.

I stare at the nurse in fear, wanting to ask her for how long I’d been in a coma, but even more than that I’d like to ask her what happened to Ash and Eiji afterwards.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” the nurse asks me.

I nod, because now I do; Ash shot me somewhere around my stomach or side. I don’t remember the pain or what happened after, it just felt like a dull punch followed by black vision and complete loss of hearing and ability to move.

It feels like it happened just seconds ago, but judging from the nurse’s expression, more time has passed than I remember.

I bite the inside of my cheek, afraid of how much I hurt the people around me by being absent like that. How much impact Ash’s actions had on the shelter, I wonder.

I have so many questions, but my voice won’t work.

For now I’ll have to do with the few things the nurse tells me, like that I’ve been in a coma for about one and a half week and that it’ll probably last a couple of weeks before I’ve recovered completely. It’s shocking how much damage getting shot and being asleep for a while can do, but she also reassures me that I should be completely alright if I rest a lot.

I wish I would be able to rest, not knowing what chaos my old life is in.

It could be shattered, who knows what has happened while I was unconscious.

Not knowing is bad, but not being able to ask people about it is even worse. Never in my life I would’ve thought that I would miss my voice this much if I’m not able to use it. I always saw having a voice as a disadvantage, because people expect you to talk if you have one, but now that I’m not able to get a sound to leave my throat I wish I could talk on and on for forever. That way I would be able to ask all the questions that come to mind.

“I know it’s a lot,” the nurse says, probably thinking that my scared expression is because of finding out about the coma and being shot, but she’s wrong; I’m afraid about how much of a mess all of this has made, but she doesn’t have to know that anyway.

She gets up from her chair and shoots me another empathetic smile. “But it’s important to calm your mind and get some more sleep.”

I feel like rolling my eyes, because I’ve slept for over one week straight and she still expects me to be tired. Actually, she’s right, I am exhausted; too exhausted to sigh and roll my eyes.

She turns her back to me, probably because my eyes are basically closing on their selves.

I don’t want to go back to sleep, because what if I don’t wake up? What if I forget what I wanted to ask, or I slip back into another coma, or… there’s so much that could go wrong when I would fall asleep.

I fight against my body wanting to fall asleep, but I can barely keep my eyes open.

Yelling at myself is all I can do to keep me awake; I don’t want to sleep again!

But when that isn’t enough, and my eyes start closing even more, I gather all my energy in one place. I all focus it on my throat-area, or my voice box to be more specific.

I have to ask one more thing, the most important question, before I go to sleep again. Just in case I forget, in case I don’t wake up after this.

“W-“ my own voice startles me, it’s crackly and almost not loud enough to sound above the heart monitor’s beeping. “W-where.”

I can see the nurse turning around, but I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

As I start to dose away, I can just barely hear my own voice asking, “W-where’s Ash?”

I try my best to stay awake a little longer and hear the answer, but it’s impossible and before I know it I’m too far gone to hear or see or feel or think anything other than a black void of nothingness and sleepy calmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> This will be Shorter's first time seeing Ash after the accident, will he be nervous?


	20. Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full;  Either Way You Won’t Get Thirsty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're going to see Ash...  
> How nervous are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> Last chapter of the year... strange.   
> I hope you'll have a wonderful 2021!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Eiji Okumura**

_It’s a miracle he woke up!_ That’s what they told everyone when Shorter awakened from his coma about a week ago.

And when he started talking the same day, they were positive that his healing process would go quicker than most patients who’d gone through the same thing.

You know what else is a miracle; I’m still in America.

Right now, I’m watching them as they let Shorter take his first steps. He shouldn’t walk too much yet, or that’s what Nadia told me at least, but since Shorter and I are going somewhere special today he’ll have to walk towards his own wheelchair.

It took us so long to get this trip planned, but today Shorter and I will finally be allowed to see Ash for the first time after the accident.

We’d been warned, or course, because Ash still isn’t the same as before. Something has snapped inside of him that day, but they’re working very hard to get him back to normal and maybe even better with some help of a special treatment.

At first I didn’t think Shorter would want to go with me, but after we had a good talk and he explained why he always was so anxious around me, he’s gotten a little looser and social towards me. Maybe it also did help that we experienced something this scary together, but I don’t want to think about that being the reason we’re talking like old friends now.

I almost feel like clapping when Shorter makes it all the way to his wheelchair, that’s standing on the other side of the room, but I keep my hands where they are.

When he flops down in his wheelchair, panting from exhaustion, Shorter looks up at me and waves awkwardly; never before had I known there was such a fun guy deep inside of him, because earlier he’d just look at me with those deer-in-the-headlights-eyes.

But now he even jokes around sometimes and there’s a grin on his face whenever he’s talking to me or Nadia or other people he knows.

Nadia, who just helped him get to his wheelchair, pushes Shorter towards the door. I open it for them, because getting through it is already hard enough.

“Are you boys ready?” Nadia says, clearly excited to see her brother wanting to go outside instead of coop up in his bedroom and be antisocial.

Both of us nod and thank Nadia for helping us with convincing Ash’s caretakers that we should really see him; that it will be good for his treatment and well-being.

After that we leave to do something we didn’t think we’d be doing somewhere soon.

As if today’s wasn’t exciting enough already, someone’s waiting for us right outside of the door. It’s someone who hasn’t been allowed to visit Shorter because he was neither involved in the accident nor a caretaker of Ash or Shorter.

On a little brick wall, right outside of the hospital, Sing’s sitting and waiting for us patiently.

His face lights up when he spots us and within no time he’s running straight at us, pulling Shorter in for a nice, tight hug.

“Oh Shorter,” Sing squeaks, already crying. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

I catch myself chuckling when Shorter awkwardly mumbles that he’s happy to see Sing too, but that sometimes the wound still hurts.

Sing doesn’t sense the hint Shorter’s giving him, so I add, “In other words, Sing, you should be a little more careful when hugging him. He hasn’t fully healed yet.”

Sing lets go of Shorter immediately, stepping back with an embarrassed expression on his face. He sways from the left to the right before apologizing.

“I was, _am_ , just so happy to see you,” he states. “Everyone at the shelter would refuse to let me go outside for the past couple of weeks and it was terrible not being able to play games, or just _talk_ to someone else that’s at least somewhat around my age.”

I giggle; Sing has giving Blanca, Max and Griffin such a hard time because when he went out to deliver the papers with Skipper, he made a “short cut” past the hospital. Unfortunately for him, Griffin was just getting back from bringing Nadia some homemade soup and Sing got grounded for sneaking away from Skipper and disobeying the rules they had made before Sing got the job of delivering papers.

After that incident, Sing was forced to stay inside and since Shorter was in the hospital and Ash and Yut-Lung both are at a facility pretty far from home, Sing couldn’t keep himself calm; he’d whine all the time, and he was so bored he even begged Griffin to let him so the cleaning, cooking and other stuff that the caretakers would normally do.

Now his punishment should be over, but I soon spot Blanca keeping an eye on Sing from inside a parked car a little further away.

“So, Shorter,” Sing continues. “How are you? Good, right?”

Shorter nods and tells Sing all about how we’re going to visit Ash today.

At first Sing seems pretty jealous, he’s been asking to see Ash so he can get revenge for what he’s done to Shorter and the shelter all the time. But then his expression softens.

“Blanca and I are going to visit Yut-Lung today,” Sing says with a wide grin, he’s been dying to see his good friend as well. “So, tonight during dinner we could tell each other how they were doing, alright?”

Someone clearly told Sing that Shorter would be actually coming home again after this afternoon, and that same someone also ruined that surprise we were planning.

We stand there a little longer, talking about the little things that have happened at the shelter and how everything is slowly but surely getting back to normal again.

And after about ten minutes, Blanca shouts at Sing from inside the car, telling him that they need to get going off they want to be in time for their visit at Yut-Lung’s facility.

“We also have to get going,” I tell him with a smile. “Tell Yut-Lung we said hello, alright?”

Sing nods about a thousand times before jogging towards Blanca’s car.

We start walking towards the car Max got for a small amount; a special car with wheelchair access that even someone with a normal license, like me, can drive.

Shorter is silent for a while, but when we’ve almost reached our car, he cracks a smile.

“What?” I ask with a soft chuckle, wondering why Shorter’s smiling so wide.

“Nothing,” Shorter whispers, looking down at his lap. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

I nod and smile, I get what he means; even though we don’t know how good Ash will be doing, both of us are very happy to see him again after such a long time.

“I can’t wait either,” I say, which isn’t the correct reply in all moments, but right now it feels perfect. “So let’s see Ash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Ash can only think of himself as CRAZY, when will it stop?


	21. i'm crazy, I'm Crazy, I'M CRAZY!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crazy crazy crazy  
> Crazy Crazy  
> CRAZY!
> 
> When will this madness stop...

**Aslan Callenreese**

_“They give you too many meds!”_ Voices in my head have been screaming for days now.

Ever since they locked me up within these four sterile walls, the voices haven’t shut up even once. They pump me full with medication, things to calm me down or fix me, but it only makes it worse.

All the time the voices yell, except for right after getting medication. In those moments I feel nothing; no thoughts, no feelings, nothing at all.

I hate it, feeling noting, because it means I completely forget how many time has passed.

They only let me see my bother once a week, which means I’ve only seen him twice or trice so far. Other visitors aren’t allowed at all, which makes me question whether they just want to use me as a test subject for Banana Fish or they actually want to make me better.

I don’t know anymore.

Everything is mixed up and sometimes I feel so stupid for not knowing what really did happen and what just was in my mind.

Does Banana Fish exist? Or not?

Did shoot Shorter because I’m crazy or because I wanted to save Eiji from death?

And Shorter did he die or survive? What was it that I was told on the phone? I only remember crying myself to sleep that night, wishing for something, or was that also just a stupid dream or hallucination?

Did everything happen? Or nothing?

I know nothing, just that everything is a mess inside my head. They tell me they can fix me, but I don’t belief them as everything they do only makes me feel worse and worse.

I just want my brother and I want to see that Shorter’s alive. More than anything I want Eiji near me, sitting beside me to keep me calm, but whenever I ask for him they tell me that would be impossible because I’m not stable enough to receive visitors.

Right now, the voices are yelling at me with full force and full speed; calling me a weirdo, telling me to escape, screaming at me that the caretakers want me dead.

It’s because it’s been at least three hours since my last dose of medication. One more hour without and the voices will be at their loudest, leaving me no room to think.

I press my hands over my ears and mumble, “Please, just shut up.”

I know talking back at the voices will only feed their ego, but there’s no going around their noise and insults. If I don’t reply to them, I feel so powerless, I’ll go mad.

There’s a knock on the door, but I barely hear it above the noise in my head. Maybe it’s even inside of my head, I wonder when I look at the door and nothing happens.

“Come in?” It comes out more like a question than an answer, because who knows what I might be imagining this time.

I hope I’m not imagining it, at least that’s what shoots through my head when the door opens I see who were the ones knocking on the door.

My eyes first meet Eiji’s; they’re cheerful, yet cautious and a ghost of a smile appears on his face when he waves at me awkwardly. He shifts from one leg to the other hand, even though I know this is a sign that he’s uncomfortable, I can’t help but blush.

There’s a lump forming in my throat when my gaze moves down to Shorter’s Mohawk; its purple dye has almost completely grown out of is and he has clearly cut his pineapple fluffiness a little shorter before coming here. That isn’t the only thing that’s different, because there are huge bags under his eyes and he’s breathing through tubes that enter through his nose. And there’s no way to miss the fact that he’s seated in a wheelchair, a blanket draped over his legs to keep him warm.

At first everything inside of me is screaming “what have you done!?”, because it’s my fault that Shorter’s in a wheelchair, but then I see my best friend’s expression.

Shorter’s grinning wider than Eiji; a more outspoken smile I’ve never seen on Shorter’s face.

Tears sting my eyes and, if I wasn’t frozen in place, I would’ve ran towards both of them and hugged them without ever planning on letting go. Instead I just stay on the bed, with my back pressing tensely against the wall, as I ask, “How are you?”

Eiji’s mouth opens, but before he has the chance to answer all sorts of questions come to mind. I want to ask them all, so I shoot one question after the other at them not leaving them any time to answer because I might forget what I want to ask them.

“Shorter, are you alright? Will you ever walk again? Did I really shoot you?” I ask, looking at Shorter before moving my gaze up to Eiji again and adding, “Eiji, I’m so sorry you had to see that! Did I traumatize you? Or are you okay? What have I done to the both of you?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, wishing I knew for long they would be here, because I have so much I want to ask them. So much I want to know, and I can’t wait any longer.

I look down at my lap, all of us have gone silent for a while.

There’s only one question playing in the back of my mind, but it’s the harder to get off my lips. It’s one I want them to answer, but I’m terrified of what they will say.

“Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

There’s a silence; what does that mean? Are they still mad at me or is it the other way around and does a silence means that they forgive me?

Eiji starts chuckling all of a sudden.

I perk up my eyebrow at him, confused at what that’s supposed to mean.

“Of course we forgive you, Ash!” Eiji says, still giggling. “Right, Shorter?”

Shorter nods at least ten times before I realize what they just told me; they actually forgave me just now. After all I did to them, all the trouble and hurt I caused, they’re still able to smile at me and tell me that they forgive me.

Before I know it, my entire face is wet because of the tears that are spilling from my eyes.

“As for your questions,” Eiji continues, but I barely hear him because my mind is too occupied with making me realize what just happened.

When I’ve regained some stability again, and Eiji has grabbed a chair to sit on, they start answering my questions.

Eiji explains that through therapy all of them are doing alright now, and that everyone is working towards getting everything back together again now that they can.

When talking, I also see a totally different Shorter; one that isn’t scared of Eiji and just talks like he would like when it was just the two of us. He explains to me that he’s already got some appointments for physical therapy so he can learn to walk again, but that the doctors all day he’ll be on his feet again in no time. It makes me happy when he answers questions instead of letting Eiji answer them, it doesn’t matter to me if he stammers once or twice, I’m just happy to see that Shorter is alive and well and not angry with me anymore.

And when one of the caretakers walks into the room to tell Eiji and Shorter that the visiting time is over, I feel a little sad. Even though it was all about sharing important information and seeing them again one more time, I didn’t have this much fun in weeks.

Eiji gets up from his chair and, with a short goodbye, he pushes Shorter out of the room. The door shuts immediately behind them, almost as if the caretakers are afraid I’ll escape.

I smile, because there’s no reason for me to escape anymore.

The entire time that they were here, I felt emotions and I had thoughts running through my head, but none of them were worried. None of them were those ugly voices telling me to obey their orders.

I knew exactly what’s wrong and what’s right. For the entire conversation, I was aware of what’s fake and what’s real. I haven’t felt this way in weeks, but it feels so calming and nice.

It was silent and calm in my head and it still is.

That’s why I don’t need to run away from my faith; I have my guardian angel.

Eiji is my escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Yep, you guessed it; the final chapter!


	22. You're My First and My Last Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Chapter...  
> Of The Blurred Line Between Madness and Sanity!

**Eiji Okumura**

_Six months later…_

Clouds rush by as we’re slowly getting closer to the ground. I’m basically stuck to the little window as I see the skyscrapers of New York below me.

Last time I saw these New York-ish buildings I was nervous, but not as nervous as I am right now. I was excited, but not as excited as I am now.

It’s been half a year since that long flight I took to New York. I would be arriving there for my internship and I was nervous and excited so bad that I almost puked on my flight there. This time I actually did puke, right before I got on my plane.

Of course, seeing the American cities beneath me brings back memories, both good and, well, terrible ones that got me in more trouble than anything has before.

In the past months, I’ve been grounded by my parents so much that they wouldn’t even let me leave the house to go to school, do the groceries or even just to do get some fresh air. I haven’t left my parent’s house until a week ago, when I was finally not grounded any longer.

It’s summer vacation now and therefore that already meant that I’d have no school anymore after being released from the hellhole that’s called home. So I sort of immediately bought a plane ticket and convinced my parents that I deserved to go back to America one more time.

They agreed, saying that I had to close this chapter for real this time; last time I got on my plane, about two days after visiting Ash with Shorter, my parents demanded that I came back to Japan again and I didn’t get to have a proper goodbye.

It did take long to convince them on letting me go back for about a week to just have a nice goodbye though; they were really against it after all that had happened this past year.

Yet, here I am, landing on the same airfield that I landed on half a year ago.

It feels the same, but completely different.

Everything looks the same and just like back then my heart is beating mad-crazy, but I do know who I’m looking for this time and I feel much more excited than last time.

Again, I push through the crowd, wanting to be with all of them as soon as possible.

I see them standing there, just a little further.

Ash is the first one that I see, his green eyes meet me and I immediately notice that he’s trying his best not to cry. Next to Ash is Griffin on one side and Shorter on the other.

Both of them are holding up a decorated banner with my name gratified on it.

Next I see Blanca standing behind Yut-Lung and Sing, who’re smiling wide and already trying to pull away from his tight grip.

Everyone’s there; The people I’d already spotted, Max, Nadia, Charlie and even Jessica, Skipper and Michael are waiting for me on the other side of the gates.

I run towards them, dropping my suitcase as soon as I walk through the gates, because there’s no way I’m able to hold onto it any longer. When all three of the teens fly at me and wrap their arms around my neck, I can’t do anything else than hug them back even tighter.

“We missed you so much Eiji!” Sing shouts in my ear. “Right, Yut-Lung and Shorter?”

The two other teens that are basically flattening me agree by nodding into my shoulder.

I’ve never seen anyone this happy to see me, not even my parents were this cheerful and touchy when I got back home after some terrifying events.

They nozzle me for a little longer, holding on to my tight until it’s getting way to warm to be hugging this tightly. They step back and aside so there’s a clear path; I can see Ash.

He’s not looking at me, glancing away as tears stream over his cheeks.

His looks have not changed much, but his hair has been cut just a little shorter making it less greasy and much neater. Other than that, he looks just as guilty as he did last time I saw him; he’s avoiding eye contact and he’s blushing just a little.

In his hand there’s a flower, I wonder where he got it.

I try to catch Ash’s eye, by smiling and waving, but he doesn’t look at me until Griffin nudges him in the side. Ash looks up after Griffin does that and when his eyes meet mine his expression grows a little tenser. Griffin physically has to push Ash my way, and while walking Ash is staring at the flower in his hand.

He’s standing in front of me when he opens his mouth for the first time.

“Eiji,” he says, more silent that he’d been ever before. “I—Welcome back.”

I can’t stand this awkwardness, or at least not from Ash and my body is longing for a hug. I lean forward and wrap my arms around Ash’s neck.

While nuzzling his hair, feeling how they’re still damp from showering and smelling the shampoo he probably used this morning, I whisper, “I missed you, Ash.”

I really did, I cried myself to sleep multiple times at the thought of not being able to see Ash ever again, because my parents told me I wouldn’t be allowed to see him again.

Now, holding him like this, it feels amazing.

I don’t want to step back, or let go anymore, but when Ash awkwardly shifts his weight to the other leg and steps back, I don’t have a choice other than letting go too.

“Uhm, Eiji,” he continues. “I am very sorry about getting you grounded… and scaring you like I did.” He presents the flower with blushing cheeks. “Except my apology.”

I chuckle; of course telling Ash that I had already forgiven him wouldn’t be enough to calm his nerves completely. He needed more than just a “yes, I forgive you”, but what more can I give him?

I step forward, lay my hands on his shoulders and swallow.

What I’m going to do could either be a very wrong choice or the best step I’ve ever taken.

I lean forward and before Ash can tell me otherwise, I press my lips onto his.

Like in my daily daydreams, for some reason, I’m kissing Ash right now; our skin touching, tasting him and showing him that I’ve forgiven him in so many ways that I can’t even keep my mind off of him anymore.

I’d known it from the start that I liked him, that he was different from anybody I’d met before. But I pushed my feelings back, especially after what happened to Shorter; I couldn’t, or rather _shouldn’t,_ love someone that aggressive as Ash.

Still, now that we’re standing here and I feel how Ash’s nails are just so lightly are digging into my back while he kisses me back like he has done it a million times before, I know that this is what I’ve been longing for.

Our lips part and more than anything I’d love to go in for a second kiss, but I don’t know what Ash would want. His expression, when our eyes meet, is a mix of pleasant excitement and horror, fear like milk in bitter coffee. So I don’t go in for another kiss.

Instead I smile and tousle Ash’s hair, and he laughs like a little kid. And even though everyone else also has been shocked by our sudden kiss, they all laugh too.

I look at Ash, feeling how every fiber in my being is happy. And when my gaze moves to Yut-Lung and Sing and Shorter and all the caretakers, I feel even happier.

I wrap my hand around Ash’s and walk towards them without a lump in my throat this time.

They might not all be the same as everyone else, and if anyone knows that it’s me, but these teens are not aggressive at all… if anything they’re vulnerable teens who will grow up to be some of the most lovable people I’ll ever meet.

And I’m proud to call them my friends.

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey There!
> 
> Damn... that was quite adventure, am I right?  
> You don't even know how much your comments and kudos gave me the motivation to keep writing (at the start of the story) and how you made me cry happy tears with sweet messages once I've finished writing the drafts <3
> 
> If you have ANY feedback after reading all of this, let me know;   
> what you liked about the story, but also what I can possibly do different in a next story?  
> That way I'll be able to keep improving my own writing, because a writer is never done learning!
> 
> I'm so glad you all read this and I very much hope you enjoyed it just as much as I loved writing this!  
> ThankyouThankyouThankyou!
> 
> Love, Noa <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey There,
> 
> I hoped you like it so far!  
> I want to give you a little information about the mental health issues that I'm using in this fanfiction so you can let me know if I'm portraying them right.
> 
> ____  
> Schizophrenia:  
> Schizophrenia is a serious mental disorder in which people interpret reality abnormally. 
> 
> Some symptoms Schizophrenia may include are  
> \- Delusions; false beliefs that are not based in reality.  
> \- Hallucinations; seeing or hearing things that don't exist.  
> \- Disorganized thinking (speech); Effective communication can be impaired and answers to questions may be unrelated.  
> \- Abnormal motor behavior; may vary from childlike silliness to unpredictable agitation.  
> \- Negative symptoms; neglect personal hygiene, appear to lack emotion, lose interest in everyday activities, socially withdraw or lack the ability to experience pleasure.
> 
> Not everyone with Schizophrenia has the same set of symptoms and the severity can both vary per person and per specific moments. 
> 
> ____  
> Post Traumatic Stress Disorder:  
> PTSD is a disorder that develops in some people who have experienced a shocking, scary, or dangerous event.
> 
> Some symptoms PTSD may include are  
> \- Re-experiencing; nightmares or flashbacks.  
> \- Avoidance; avoiding being reminded of the traumatic event.  
> \- Emotional numbing: trying not to feel anything at all.  
> \- Hyperarousal; feeling "on edge"  
> \- Increase of mental health issues
> 
> ____  
> Social Anxiety:  
> Social Anxiety is a chronic mental disorder that causes significant anxiety, fear, self-consciousness and embarrassment because you fear being judged by others.
> 
> Some symptoms Social Anxiety may include are  
> \- Lots of fears; being judged, interacting with strangers, humiliating yourself, others noticing your anxiety, etc.  
> \- Avoidance; staying away from being the center of attention or not saying anything because it might emberass you  
> \- Worrying; always thinking of the worstcase senario(s) instead of the logic ones  
> \- Physical signs; blushing, trembling, sweating, fast heartbeat, lightheaded, etc.
> 
> Social Anxiety can vary from mild to extreme, but can get less when learning ways to cope with it.
> 
> ____  
> Anorexia:  
> Anorexia is an eating disorder characterized by an abnormally low body weight, an intense fear of gaining weight and a distorted perception of weight.
> 
> Some symptoms Anorexia may include are  
> \- Physical Symptoms; extreme weight loss, fatigue, abnormal blood counts, hair that thins, breaks or falls out, irregular heart rhythms, etc.  
> \- Behavioral changes; severely restricting food intake, exercising excessively, self-induced vomiting, eating only a few certain "safe" foods  
> \- Complaining about being fat or weighing yourself excessively
> 
> ____  
> Substance Use Disorder:  
> Drug addiction is a disease that affects a person's brain and behavior, and leads to an inability to control the use of a legal or illegal drug or medication.
> 
> Some symptoms substance use disorder may include are  
> \- Intense urges; feeling like you need (more) of that drug to the point that it blocks out all thoughts  
> \- Strange behavior to get the drug; spending money you don't have, stealing or fighting/killing to get it  
> \- Failing at rehab; you try to stop using the drug, but just can't
> 
> ____  
> Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder:  
> ADHD is a condition that affects people's behaviour. People with ADHD can seem restless, may have trouble concentrating and may act on impulse.
> 
> Some symptoms ADHD may include are  
> \- Inattentiveness; short attention span, making careless mistakes, appearing forgetful, constantly changing activity, etc.  
> \- Hyperactivity; unable to sit still, fidgeting, excessive talking, etc.  
> \- Impulsiveness; acting without thinking
> 
> _____  
> Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:  
> OCD is a disorder that features a pattern of unwanted obsessions that lead you to compulsions. 
> 
> Some symptoms OCD may include;  
> \- Obsessions with themes: Fear of dirt, boubting, deeding things orderly and symmetrical, etc.  
> \- Per theme a set of compultions (example):  
> \- Fear of dirt: Hand-washing until your skin becomes raw  
> \- Doubting: Checking doors repeatedly to make sure they're locked  
> Etc.
> 
> ____  
> These are the mental health issues that I'll be using in this story.  
> For the ones that wonder,  
> YES, one character in my fanfiction can have more than one mental disorder.  
> NO, I won't be saying which character has which mental health issue... it's up to you to guess that and leave it in the comments!
> 
> Having said that; see you in a couple of days with the next chapter!
> 
> Love, Noa <3


End file.
